I'll Catch You If You Fall
by Anno1701
Summary: 'John didn't know how many times the phone had been ringing by now. Maybe three times? Or ten? He also couldn't tell how long he'd just been sitting there, staring at the empty armchair in front of him.' After Sherlock's death, John is desperate. He doesn't know how to go on. Can Mycroft help him to get over it? And maybe even show him that there's still something worth living for?
1. Chapter 1

**Hey everyone! This is the first chapter of my new story. It's about Sherlock, or to be more exact about John and Mycroft. What would have happened if Mycroft had been there for John after Sherlock's death? Would they have become friends or even more than that? Of course Sherlock will also play an important role in this, as you all know. I hope you like the first part, I'll try to continue as soon as possible. And please let me know what you think! **

* * *

John didn't know how many times the phone had been ringing by now. Maybe three times? Or ten? Even more often? He also couldn't tell how long he'd just been sitting there, staring at the empty armchair in front of him. It had to be many hours by now. Or days?

After the funeral, he hadn't left 221 B Baker Street. He'd told the others at work that he was sick and he was told to stay at home for a few days. He'd been told that they understood how he was feeling right now.

As if anyone could understand him.

No one knew what it was like. To see your best friend jump to his death. _It's what people do, don't they? Leave a note._ John closed his eyes and pressed his hands on his ears. However, the voice inside of his head wouldn't shut up. _Goodbye, John_.

He groaned, hoping that it would all just stop. He couldn't stand it anymore, those thoughts. Sherlock Holmes… dead. Sherlock, his best friend. His annoying, brilliant best friend who had no idea how to interact with people. Who always got himself in trouble, not once thinking about the consequences of his actions. But until now, it always ended well… Normally, John was there when Sherlock needed him. They had each other's back, always protecting each other. They were a team. This time, John hadn't been there in time. He hadn't been able to stop him. His best friend wouldn't come back.

He wouldn't close the door in annoyance when a client and his or her story was boring. He also wouldn't shoot at the wall anymore, making Mrs. Hudson look at him accusingly. He even wouldn't be able to call Greg Lestrade wrong names. There also wouldn't be times when Sherlock and John were at Baker Street, talking about cases they'd solved in the past. Those times when everything was so easy, when they could laugh together. Or when Sherlock complained about the names John gave their cases in his blog. Even those times when Mycroft visited would be gone, when Sherlock was acting like an annoyed child because his brother was there, drinking tea with John even if he actually wanted to talk to Sherlock.

Mycroft… Would he visit again, now that Sherlock was gone? John wasn't so sure about that. Yes, he liked Mycroft. And in the past months, John had the feeling that Mycroft might like him too. If there were people who Mycroft liked and not just tolerated, how Sherlock had said it once. Nevertheless, Sherlock's brother had been at Baker Street more often than usual lately, sometimes even when Sherlock wasn't there. Of course he'd told John that he didn't know that his brother was gone, but he didn't believe him. Mycroft _always_ knew where Sherlock was. So why had he been there then…?

Slowly, John opened his eyes again and glanced at his phone on the table next to him. He had ignored the calls which had started soon after the funeral. Or right after he'd entered the house, to be exact. There, Mycroft had just told him how sorry he was. But John didn't expect anything else, Mycroft always held himself back when others were around. However, the phone calls were unexpected. A first glance had told him that it was Mycroft Holmes who tried to call him. Why? John wasn't so sure, but he'd decided to ignore the phone calls. He didn't want to talk to anyone right now. Not even to Mycroft. Who was feeling bad himself, wasn't he? After all, his brother…

John forced the thought aside and concentrated on something else. The sound of the traffic outside wasn't calming him down. He sighed in frustration when he heard footsteps on the stairs and a soft knock on the door. "John, is everything alright?" Mrs. Hudson's voice sounded insecure, as if she feared that nothing was alright. Which was true, to be honest.

"You can come in, Mrs. Hudson." John called and was surprised at how rough his own voice sounded.

Slowly, the door opened and he saw the face of a very concerned Mrs. Hudson. "John, are you really alright?" She asked when she entered. She was carrying a tablet in her hands, with sandwiches and two cups of tea. "I made you some food, I thought you might need it. It's been two days since the funeral and I didn't hear a single word from you. I was worried. First Sherlock, and then you…" Her hands were shaking when she put the tablet down on the kitchen table.

"I'm fine, Mrs. Hudson." John stood up and joined her in the kitchen. His legs were stiff and his back was hurting. Did he really sit there for two days? Two days since that funeral… And he hadn't been able to sleep. Was he feeling tired? It was hard to tell. He wasn't so sure if he felt anything else than hollow at the moment. "I just needed some time alone."

Mrs. Hudson nodded slowly and sighed. "It's terrible, isn't it? I miss him very much. Even the times when he would run around here and yell things. Or when he shot at the wall with his pistol. And the times he attacked my mantelpiece with a knife…" She inhaled shakily and John could just take her into his arms when she began to cry. "He will never come back." She sobbed.

"I miss him too." John whispered while she was crying. And he didn't know if it was Mrs. Hudson crying in his arms or just the fact that he wasn't alone anymore, but now he also felt tears running down his cheeks. The tears that had refused to come out those past days.

The sound of his phone ringing on the table interrupted them. Mrs. Hudson looked up with raised eyebrows. "Is someone trying to call you, John? I thought that I've heard that sound before in the past days. Many times, to be exact. Did you never answer?"

"It's Mycroft." John explained. "And no, I didn't answer the call yet."

Mrs. Hudson raised her eyebrows. "But why? He certainly just wants to make sure that you are alright."

John shrugged. "I just don't want to talk to him. At least not yet."

He wasn't prepared for the accusing look on her face. "John Watson, now let me tell you something. Yes, your best friend is gone. It hurts me to say it like this, but it is true. And you are not going to withdraw from everyone who cares for you, do you understand? If you don't answer those calls in the next 24 hours, I'll talk to him myself. And then I am going to tell him to drag you out of here. Because you really need it." She sighed and suddenly, Mrs. Hudson looked incredibly tired. "I can't lose both of you, John. You have to promise me to look after yourself."

For a few moments, John just stared at her silently. Then he nodded slowly. "Alright, Mrs. Hudson. Of course I'll do it. And I'll talk to him. And then I'll see what Mycroft wants."

All of the sudden, her face light up again. "That's fine, John. You really need to talk to someone. And not just to me, also to someone else. You can't shut yourself away from the world. And now sit down and eat something. You should also get some sleep, you look tired."

"Yeah, maybe I should…" John muttered while he sipped at his tea. To be honest, he didn't want to sleep. He was afraid that he'd have nightmares. And he knew that they would come. He already saw images when he just closed his eyes.

They sat there in silence, both drinking their tea and eating sandwiches. None of them wanted to be alone by now. A look at the clock told John that it was five in the afternoon. So it's been two and a half days since the funeral. It didn't feel like that much time. When he thought of Sherlock on that building again…

"I think of him too." Mrs. Hudson whispered. "He would have said that we are far too sentimental."

"He would have told us to do something useful for once." John muttered. "Because obviously, he was the only one who's been able to think in this house."

Mrs. Hudson smiled sadly. "He thought that, didn't he?"

Joh sighed. "He emphasized it many times."

That evening, his phone didn't ring again. A look told him that he had 14 missed calls from Mycroft Holmes in the past two days. He planned to call him back next morning. And then John would hear what Mycroft wanted to tell him. And of course he would also have to leave the house to get some food. His fridge was empty – except for a bottle with a dark, undefined liquid Sherlock had placed there some time ago.

John was already lying in bed and staring at the ceiling when the sound of his ringing phone echoed through the silence. 'Mycroft Holmes' it said when he looked at the display. He took a deep breath and answered the call.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter two! And this time, we'll also meet Mycroft Holmes. I hope you like it and please let me know what you think! **

**I don't own the characters or places!**

* * *

The next morning, John was up very early. He'd barely slept that night and was happy when the clock had finally reached a time when normal people would get up and start their day. He felt exhausted – when he hadn't been staring at the ceiling the nightmares had haunted him. He always saw the same scene.

He groaned, forcing himself not to think of it again. After a quick shower, John looked around in the flat. It wasn't very tidy, the last time they'd cleaned up Sherlock had still been there. They had found old papers about a case in which–

John shook his head fiercely. He would not think of this! He had to do something, distract himself from those thoughts. He needed to clean up. And go shopping, he needed food. And maybe he could also get something for Mrs. Hudson if she needed anything? Yes, he would ask her about it. For the first time in days, he opened the curtains and light fell into the room. John glanced at the two armchairs and turned around quickly. But now he was looking at the wall with the holes… And in the kitchen Sherlock's microscope was standing on the counter.

Everything in here reminded him of Sherlock. Just everything. And he would never come back. His best friend was dead.

John closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing. Slowly, he sat down on the floor and counted to one hundred. Then he stood up again and looked out of the window. Strange, that life was just going on out there. As if nothing happened. Just like –

"No, I'm not thinking of this now." He muttered to himself and wanted to take his phone out of his pocket. However, it wasn't there. It still had to be on the nightstand. When he had it with him, John left the flat and called for Mrs. Hudson. She was in the kitchen, drinking tea. She also looked tired.

"John? Good morning, I didn't expect you to be up this early."

John tried to smile at her, but he was sure that it looked like a grimace. "Couldn't sleep."

"Me neither." Mrs Hudson muttered and looked into her tea. "Did you eat something? You're getting too thin, John."

"I'm not hungry. And besides, I don't have anything. I just wanted to go and get something." He ran a hand through his hair. He really needed to get out of here, maybe that would make everything better.

"Did you already call Mycroft?" Mrs Hudson asked, ripping him out of his thoughts.

"Oh yeah, he called me, to be exact." John muttered and his lips twitched.

"And?" Mrs Hudson raised her eyebrows, a smile on her lips.

"He asked if he could come over after work." He said shortly, not wanting to talk about this right now. He could already see her excitement.

"That's great, then you aren't always so alone here. And I bet Mycroft also needs company." Suddenly, her smile turned into a grin. Somehow, John admired that she could act this carefree right now. "That's why you need to go to the grocery store! And you should clean up, it looks terrible up there."

John sighed. "I was planning to do that once I get back."

Mrs Hudson's expression turned to worried when she looked at him. "I'm sorry, John. It shouldn't sound like you're not doing enough. After all, it's a hard time. For all of us."

He nodded. "Yes, it is."

Now she reached for a piece of paper that was lying on the counter. "Could you get me those things? I can also do it myself, that is not a problem."

John shook his head and forced a smile on his lips. "No problem, Mrs Hudson. I'll do it."

* * *

When his fridge was filled again and the apartment was clean, John sat down in his armchair. He had done all those things automatically, trying not to think of anything. And to his surprise, it had worked well. When he had something to do, it was easier to push the thoughts about what happened aside. And also the thoughts of his phone call with Mycroft.

Now, John allowed himself to think of that. And a small smile appeared on his lips. Yes, Mycroft had asked if he could visit John at 221B Baker Street after work. He'd also asked if John would rather meet him at a café or something, knowing that it had to be hard for him to be in the apartment. However, right now John felt more comfortable at home, without too many people around. Especially when they recognized him and there was this pity in their eyes. And something else, something he'd never seen before. Distrust. '_Suicide of Fake Genius_', the papers had called it. Mycroft had asked John not to look at the papers, but he couldn't stop himself from doing it. He wanted to know what was troubling Sherlock's brother. When he had seen the headline, he'd stared at it for a few seconds before turning around and walking away from it. As far as possible. He'd been able not to think about it – until now.

He breathed in deeply. It didn't matter what the papers wrote, he told himself. All the people that mattered knew the truth. _But is it enough?_ a voice inside his head asked and John felt the urge to punch everyone who knew about this article. Just that it wouldn't change anything. But what would change it? After all, he couldn't just tell his version of the story, right?

Suddenly, his phone beeped and John frowned. The only person who'd texted him had been Sherlock. When he looked at the message, he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

**John, I hope you are alright. If you need someone to talk, call me. – Greg **

He smiled when he saw the message. Apparently, Mrs Hudson was right when she told him that there were people who cared for his wellbeing.

**I'm fine, trying to deal with everything. Maybe we can meet at the bar, as always? Friday, eight pm? – JW**

In the past months, he'd been at a bar not far from 221B with Greg a few times. It was nice, talking to him about something else than the cases. He liked Greg – Lestrade, as Sherlock always called him – very much. He could also be funny when he wasn't annoyed by Sherlock and his interference in his cases.

A soft knock on the door made John look up. A short glance at the clock told him that it was already five pm. What did he do the entire day? "Come in." He called and stood up just when Mycroft Holmes entered the apartment.

Mycroft looked neat as always, wearing a black suit, the umbrella in his hands. He smiled when he saw John and leaned his umbrella against the table. "John, it's good to see you." Mycroft greeted him and they shook hands.

"Good to see you too, Mycroft. Make yourself comfortable, do you want tea?" He noticed the dark rings under Mycroft's eyes. So he also wasn't feeling very good at the moment.

"Tea would be wonderful, thank you very much."

To his surprise, Mycroft followed him into the kitchen and leaned against the doorframe while John threw on the kettle. "How was work?" John asked to avoid the silence that was starting to spread between them.

"Exhausting as always." Mycroft answered immediately. "There are many things that have to be considered when you are working for the government. It can be very tiring. Especially when someone forgets to write an important report of a meeting with the Prime Minister."

"I can imagine that. Must be a terrible way of passing the time when there are always people whose work you have to put straight." He'd said it without thinking and Mycroft chuckled.

"Indeed, some people would say that there are far more enjoyable activities one can attend." When the tea was ready, they sat down at the kitchen table, neither of them wanting to sit in the living area.

"Do you think so too?" John asked and raised his eyebrows at Mycroft. "That there are better things to do than to work?" Somehow, he felt like he could relax now that Mycroft was here. For the first time in days, his thoughts didn't threaten to wander back to the funeral and what happened before…

"Depends on what you do with your time." Mycroft said and from the look on his face John knew that he was being analysed right now. He knew that he must look terrible, no sleep for days and the only thing he'd eaten since the day of Sherlock's death were the sandwiches last evening.

"I always thought that you're married to your work. Just like –" He stopped out of the sudden and looked at his hands on the table. Could he really just sit here and talk to Mycroft while his brother was gone? And how was all of this for Mycroft himself?

"John." Mycroft's soft voice took him back to reality. Slowly, he looked up to see Mycroft's concerned face. At every other moment, he would be surprised now. Because he'd never seen him like this before, with such worry in his eyes. Not even when Sherlock did something stupid again. Not even when Sherlock…

"Are you here with me? Or are your thoughts overwhelming you again?" Mycroft used the same words with which John had tried to explain his state of mind the previous evening.

"I'm sorry, it happens very often at the moment." He muttered and closed his eyes for a few seconds. "I can't get those images out of my head, Mycroft." He noticed himself how tired he sounded.

"I know that this is hard for you, John."

"Hard. Yes, you could say it like this. Seeing your best friend kill himself right before your eyes is hard." He didn't realise that his hands on the table were shaking until Mycroft touched his wrist carefully.

"I miss him too." Mycroft said. "After all, he's my brother. And I am not as emotionless as some people say."

John smiled slightly, or at least he hoped that it didn't look completely stupid. "I know."

Mycroft raised his eyebrows. "How did you come to that conclusion?"

"The way you look after your brother. You care about him. And you love him, in your own way."

Mycroft's lips twitched. "Well said." He whispered.

"Why are you here?" John formed the question that has been on his mind since the phone call.

The man in front of him sighed. "The thought of you being alone here at Baker Street was highly disturbing." he said finally.

He frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

"John, I've been worried those past days when you didn't answer your phone." Mycroft said softly. "I don't want you to be alone in a time like this."

John sighed. "Did you also think that I might do something to myself?" He asked slowly. "You can tell me, it's alright. Mrs Hudson hinted something similar."

He didn't count anymore how many times he'd been surprised in the past twenty-four hours when Mycroft shook his head. "No, John, I think you're stronger than that." However, there was a gleam in Mycroft's eyes and his instinct told John that he wasn't completely honest with him. Mycroft Holmes had been worried because of him? His brain would need some time to accept that thought. "I thought that it was good for you to have someone to talk." He hesitated. "And maybe I wanted to talk to you too."

"You do?" _Stupid question! Otherwise, he wouldn't be here_, John scolded himself in his thoughts.

"In the past months, I did quite enjoy our conversations when I was here to visit. And I looked forward to come again." Slowly, Mycroft was looking uncomfortable and John noticed that they were still talking about feelings. Something both brothers avoided normally.

The feeling of the smile spreading out on his lips was strange after such a long time. "I did enjoy them too." John told him. "And you're right, maybe it's good to have someone to talk."

Mycroft smiled back at him. "Now that we have settled this, maybe we should change the subject? Otherwise, I'll get sentimental. And I'm not sure if that's something you want to see."

John nodded, but at the same time he thought that he had already seen Mycroft in a sentimental mood just now. And he wouldn't mind seeing that again.


	3. Chapter 3

**And here is chapter 3! I hope you like it, please let me know what you think! **

**I don't own the characters or places!**

* * *

To John's surprise, Mycroft had asked if he could see him again this week. John had agreed without thinking about it twice. He enjoyed Mycroft's company and he kept the ghosts of Sherlock away for as long as he was there. That was more than he could hope for. As soon as Mycroft left and the car vanished in the traffic, John started to hear the voices in his head again. He had promised Mycroft to eat something and try to get some sleep, but it wasn't that easy.

Mrs Hudson had invited him for dinner which gave him at least a reason to eat. He still wasn't hungry. Even though Mycroft had lifted his mood a little bit, there was still this dull feeling in his stomach and the awareness that nothing would be like it was. Never again. Mrs Hudson didn't ask many questions about Mycroft's visit that evening which John didn't mind. He didn't sleep well that night and the next day seemed to be endless. It was Thursday and he would meet Greg the next evening. Mycroft would visit him again on Saturday, then he wouldn't have to work that much. Which meant that he was also working on Saturday. What about Sunday? Did he ever take a day off? Unlikely, from what John heard so far.

He tried to think of his conversation with Mycroft instead of giving in to the dark thoughts. Mycroft was very nice, he'd asked many questions about John himself. What was he doing when he wasn't working or on cases with Sherlock? Which books did he like? And movies? Has he travelled much in his life?

John asked Mycroft the same questions and was surprised that he didn't seem to be working all the time. Mycroft was very interested in books. Movies not so much and when there were movies he liked, it were old ones. He had already seen a few cities, mostly when he was on official visits from his work. But he always took the time to look at the city, even if it was just for an afternoon. It had surprised John, Mycroft didn't seem like that type of man who liked activities like that.

And he was charming when he wanted to be. John had already experienced that a few months ago, when Mycroft came to Sherlock with a case. Of course Sherlock had refused first and locked himself up in his room. In the meantime, John made tea and they talked. Mostly about Sherlock's and John's recent cases, but it had been nice either way. During that conversation, Mycroft had made him compliments about his way to deal with Sherlock, how he was always nice to people and, most surprisingly, about his blog. He had never expected Mycroft to read it. Apparently, Sherlock's brother was even more interested in his actions than he wanted to admit. Their conversation had been interrupted by Sherlock, who'd taken the cup of tea which had been for Mycroft and asked him about the case. Mycroft had just looked at John regretfully for half a second before the annoyed big brother of Sherlock was back. After that, the siblings had started to argue and John had listened to their conversation silently.

The previous day, it also seemed to John as if Mycroft wanted to avoid silence between them. Mycroft knew that John's thoughts would turn to _that day_ again, he had no doubt of it. After all, Mycroft was just as good as Sherlock when it came to deduction. He claimed to be even better, to be exact. John would really like to know if it was true. Maybe he would find out when he spend more time with Mycroft Holmes.

There had been many things they avoided in their conversations. For example Sherlock. Details of Mycroft's work were also nothing they could talk about, but John had known that before. After all, everything Mycroft did was top secret. Nevertheless, it wasn't difficult to keep the conversation going. And John was able to make Mycroft smile. One time, he even laughed. Of course there was also this thoughtful look on Mycroft's face sometimes, when their dialogue turned towards Sherlock. John suspected that it was Mycroft's way to show sadness when others were around. Did he ever cry? Probably not. Somehow, John envied Mycroft for being able to act so normal in times like this. He knew that he was probably looking like he was ill or something like that.

One time, their conversation had truly turned to Sherlock. Or to be more exact, to the things the papers wrote about him. _"If I can give you an advice, don't read it." Mycroft said and looked at John seriously. "You will not like it." _

_John nodded. "I've seen the headline, that was enough." He ran a hand through his hair. "I wish there was something we could do against it." _

_Mycroft nodded slowly. "I would bet that they will come to you soon, surely they want your version of this." He didn't look happy. "I will do everything I can to make sure that doesn't happen." _

_John frowned at him. "Why would you do that?" _

_Mycroft just chuckled. "Do you really have to ask, John?" With that, the subject seemed to be finished for him since Mycroft started to ask John about his favourite authors._

John had been thinking about that for some time by now. When they really wanted to hear his story, why shouldn't he tell them? Why shouldn't he just tell them the truth and make all those liars shut up? He didn't want anyone to think about Sherlock in such a way. As a 'Fake Genius' like they called it. He was the most brilliant man John ever met in his life. Well, one of the _two_ most brilliant men.

* * *

Friday seemed to be just as long as Thursday. John had slept that night, but not much. And he still wasn't very hungry. However, he forced himself to eat something regularly. He knew that he would break down soon if he didn't. And he didn't want to worry Mrs Hudson even more than she already was about him. Or Mycroft.

In the evening, he nearly fled from the house to see Greg. He just had to get out, however he didn't find the strength to do that without a purpose. But now he had one and Lestrade smiled at him when they met in front of the small bar.

"John, it's good to see you again." Greg was also looking tired, John noticed when they shook hands. "How are you feeling?"

John shrugged, trying to smile at him. It was difficult. "It's difficult, I'm still trying to deal with it." He said when they sat down on a small table in the corner, aside from the others. They both wanted to have some privacy this evening. Luckily, it wasn't very crowded, which was unusual for a Friday evening.

"Yeah, I know. I always expect that he'll just storm into the room and tell us that we're doing something stupid or looking for the clues at the wrong places." He looked at the glass in front of him silently. They were both just drinking water this evening.

"Would be something Sherlock does." John muttered. "When I'm in our flat, I also look for him. It's like my mind can't process that he won't –" _Come back_. He finished the sentence in his head. He wasn't ready to say it aloud, though.

"Never thought of that, did we? That Sherlock Holmes was also just human, like all of us." Greg looked sad now. "Until a few months ago, I would have never believed that I would say I miss him someday." His eyes locked with John's. "He changed when he met you. Somehow, he became less unpredictable. And he didn't withdraw from people that much anymore."

John swallowed. Greg's words were like a slap in the face to him. _He changed when he met you_. Mycroft had said something similar once. _The more time he spends with you, the calmer by brother seems to get, Dr. Watson_. And now he was gone. Sherlock wouldn't come back anymore. Somehow, he even missed the limbs in the fridge now.

"I miss him too." John said slowly. "He was my best friend. I just wish I could have been there for him. Maybe change his mind."

"When he thought that it was too dangerous, he would have made you stay away from that situation. Found a distraction. You know that, John. You could have done nothing to prevent it. He would have known how to get you out of the way."

He sighed. "I know. Hell, don't you think I know that?" He tried not to speak too loudly. He didn't want the attention of the other people. "I've always cursed his stubbornness. And I still do it. At the same time, I'd do anything to get it back. If I could just get him back."

They sat there in silence for some time until John couldn't stand it anymore. So he asked Greg about his recent cases. The next hour, they were discussing the two cases Greg and his team were struggling with at the moment. An old woman was killed in her house, someone had hit her on the head with a heavy object. A neighbour had seen someone running away that night, however he didn't carry any objects with him. Which meant that the object which had killed the woman still had to be somewhere in the house or close to it. The other case was about a young woman. Her parents had thought that she was in France with friends, they wanted to go on a holiday together. However, she was found dead, here in London. Someone had fished her out of the Thames. The strange thing about this case was that the woman has been at Paris with her friends and they were together until the day before she was found dead in London. So why was she here? And why didn't her friends notice that she was gone?

John found it highly interesting to talk about those cases. He told Greg his ideas, who was grateful for everything he could get. His team wasn't making progress anymore. And to John, this was a good way to distract himself. It gave him something to think about and he needed that very much. Before they went home, they decided to meet again next Friday. And Greg would inform John if they found something new regarding their cases.

That night, John was exhausted and for the first time in days, he fell into a dreamless sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Next chapter! This time, we'll get to see more of John and Mycroft. And even more will follow in the next chapters. I hope you like it and please let me know what you think! **

**I don't own the characters or places!**

* * *

On Saturday, Mycroft arrived at three pm. They drank tea and Mrs Hudson had baked biscuits (maybe John did mention to her that Mycroft would visit the previous day), which were very delicious. Mycroft told John a few stories about his work and he was impressed that it was very interesting. According to Sherlock, Mycroft's job was the most boring one in the country. However, John always asked questions and soon, they were deep in conversation.

To him, it seemed as if Mycroft was surprised by John's interest in his work. But it was hard to tell, John still had difficulties reading his face. With Sherlock, it had been easier. However, John had been living with him for quite some time and they were best friends. At the beginning, it had also been more difficult.

While they talked, John couldn't stop noticing many differences between Mycroft and Sherlock. Sherlock had always hated conversations like this, when people just talked about random things. He had never been able to relax, just when it was about a case. Because then, Sherlock had been in his area of expertise. And of course solving a case made him kind of high. And Sherlock had avoided looking into someone's eyes when things got too personal. Or he just stood up and began pacing the room.

Mycroft was sitting in the armchair in a relaxed way, the cup in his hands. He was smiling at John while he told him a story about a stupid accident that had happened a few years ago. Sometimes, he supplemented his comments with gestures or he rolled his eyes when he was talking about people who'd been acting stupid back then.

All in all, John really enjoyed Mycroft's company. It was so easy to be with him, also in times like this. Mycroft knew exactly what to say to keep John's thoughts in the present. He was very grateful for that. He didn't want to have a panic attack in front of Mycroft.

It had happened this morning, when John woke up from his dreamless sleep. Suddenly, all the events of the last weeks had been crashing down on him. Moriarty, Sherlock's last words, the fall. The funeral. How difficult it was to be alone in the flat when his best friend wasn't there anymore. He had been sitting on the ground of his room, hands pressed to his ears and unable to move. Mrs Hudson's knock on the door of the flat had taken him back to reality. Only then John had noticed that he was crying and that his nails had been digging very deep into his palms once he had removed his hands from his ears. There had been blood on his fingertips. A look at the clock had told him that he'd been sitting there like this for over an hour. After a shaky response to Mrs Hudson, John had been standing in the shower for some time, trying to calm down. The thought that Mycroft was coming in the afternoon had been the only thing that kept him from breaking down again.

John was sure that Mycroft knew about this. He had seen it in the concerned look on Mycroft's face once he'd arrived. The look had vanished as fast as it appeared, but John had been waiting for a reaction, no matter how small it was. He knew that Mycroft tried to distract him now so he wouldn't break down again.

"How was your meeting with Lestrade?" Mycroft asked now, ripping John out of his thoughts. For a few seconds, he was confused. But then he remembered that he told Mycroft about his meeting with Greg on his last visit.

"The meeting with _Greg_" John stressed the name "was nice." Well, mostly. Though he didn't want to tell Mycroft about the time when they had been sitting there in silence, both thinking about Sherlock.

Mycroft frowned. "So he also misses my brother." He muttered. The smile which had been on his face for quite some time by now had vanished. "This is unexpected, didn't they know each other just from cases?" At that statement, Mycroft's eyes widened slightly, as if he regretted mentioning Sherlock. "John –" He began, but John interrupted him.

"Doesn't mean that he didn't like Sherlock." He said slowly. "When I first met Greg, he was very annoyed by him. But let's be honest. Who wasn't? Except for you, maybe." He added quickly.

Mycroft chuckled, though the suspicious look wouldn't leave his face. John knew that he was analysing every movement of him right now, probably waiting for him to freak out. However, the panic that usually caught him when he thought of Sherlock wasn't there at the moment. It would only reappear when Mycroft was gone… "You can believe me when I say that Sherlock was also getting on my nerves. That he was my brother did nothing to change that. I just didn't have the luxury of just ignoring him in times like that."

John laughed quietly. "True. He could always count on you, no matter what he did." He leaned back in his chair. When did he lean forward? When Mycroft mentioned Sherlock? Or even before that? He decided to ignore it. "Greg really liked him. They got along well, in the end." Images of Sherlock and Lestrade passed his mind, standing next to each other, talking about cases. Examining crime scenes. Sherlock telling Greg that they'd done something stupid. "Greg said that Sherlock changed when he met me."

"John…" Mycroft began hesitantly. "We don't have to talk about this right now. Not when it makes you feel uncomfortable."

He swallowed and looked at Mycroft gratefully. "It's hard." He muttered and ran a hand through his hair.

"I know." Mycroft smiled slightly. "You should know that you can call me any time."

"Mycroft –" John began, not sure if he should accept that offer. He wanted it, very much. But wouldn't it just stress Mycroft when John would call him every time he felt lonely?

"You have to stop worrying so much, John." Mycroft told him. "I would not say it if I didn't mean it." He hesitated for half a second. "And besides, I do enjoy your company. So it will not bother me at all."

Did Mycroft Holmes just admit that he enjoyed someone's company? That he enjoyed having _John_ around? This man tended to surprise him very often lately. John looked at him for a few moments. He was looking at John attentively as always, a smile on his lips. His hands were folded on his lap and John noticed a small movement, revealing that the confession didn't leave him as cold as he pretended. And maybe he was a little impatient waiting for John's answer?

"Thank you, Mycroft." John whispered. Normally, it would have bothered him to accept someone's help in a situation like this and John wondered why it was different with Mycroft. "I like having you around too." Then he cleared his throat. Mycroft was looking at him with an unreadable expression now and he didn't know what to make of it. So he said the first thing that came to his mind in that moment. "Greg told be about two of their cases last evening. They seem to be on a dead end, can't find any more clues. He asked me to think about it."

Mycroft raised his eyebrows slowly. "And did you have more ideas than Greg and his team?"

John shrugged. "Not really, one of them is really strange." He hesitated. "He would have loved it." He was sure that Mycroft knew who he meant.

A playful smile appeared on Mycroft's lips. "Tell me about them. Let's see if I can help." John knew the look on his face very well. He'd seen it many times. Mycroft had seen a challenge and accepted it. _The game is on_.

"I just know the basics, not all the details." John warned him.

Mycroft nearly looked offended. "Oh come on, the basics are enough. Or do you think that it would be too difficult for me?" In his mind, John could nearly hear the _Dr. Watson_ that had ended Mycroft's sentences some time ago.

"No, I don't think that." He replied immediately. "After all, you always claim that you're the smarter one."

"Which I am." Mycroft muttered and John had to hold back a chuckle. He'd never understood the competition between the Holmes' brothers. "Now tell me about it. "

"Alright." He gave in. "Case number one. An old lady was killed in her house, had been hit on her on the head with a heavy object. She was found dead in the living room. A neighbour had seen someone running away that night, black clothes, mask and everything, however he didn't carry anything with him. Not even a bag. They didn't find the murder weapon yet. And it doesn't seem like anything was stolen by now."

Mycroft nodded slowly. "She was most likely hit on the head with a heavy object, like a bottle full of wine. Older people still tend to have these big bottles, they aren't produced anymore. The offender will have worn gloves, so there won't be any fingerprints. But I'd check if the bottle was opened before or after the woman was killed. And if there are traces of salvia. There wasn't anything stolen because the woman didn't own that much. They knew each other, maybe they even were related. She hasn't been a nice person, otherwise he wouldn't have hit her head from behind. He probably didn't even want to look at her again. I would suspect that it was her son and she treated him badly for a long time, until he finally was old enough to move out. Her husband has died when the son was still very young. When he got to know that she didn't own much anymore, he got angry and decided to dispose himself of the problem. Otherwise, it might have happened that he had to help her out with money soon."

When he finished, John just stared at Mycroft for a few seconds. He really didn't know how he deduced all this from the little amount of information he got from Greg. He would have to ask Greg soon if they knew more about this case by now. "That was impressing."

Mycroft grinned. "And I am sure that Lestrade – I'm sorry, that Greg will confirm this soon."

John rolled his eyes. "You're just as convinced of yourself as your brother."

Mycroft raised his eyebrows. "And is that a bad thing?" _Definitely not._ John thought and began to feel uneasy when a knowing smile appeared on Mycroft's lips. Damn those Holmes' and their deductions!

"The next case?" John asked and hoped that his voice sounded steady.

Mycroft turned serious again. "It would be a pleasure to me."

He breathed in deeply. "Alright. This one is trickier. A young woman was found dead, someone fished her out of the Thames. Her parents thought that she was on a holiday with her friends in Paris. And apparently, she has been in Paris with them, until the day before she was found dead here in London. Her friends didn't notice that she was gone because she told them that she wasn't feeling well, she wanted to stay at the hotel for a day."

Mycroft crossed his arms. "Interesting." He muttered. This time, it took him longer to think about the case. John watched him doing that. Unlike his brother, Mycroft didn't whisper to himself. He just sat there, a frown on his face and his right foot tapped to the ground lightly. After about two minutes, he nodded. "Paris was just an excuse for her parents, but I think Greg and his team know that already?" When he saw the doubtful look on John's face, he sighed. "So they don't know this. Nevermind. They'll come to that conclusion soon. She was at London all the time, the holiday was an excuse so that she could meet her partner secretly. Her parents didn't know about it and they probably wouldn't have accepted her."

John raised his eyebrows. "How do you know that it's a woman?"

"Men normally don't drown people in the course of an argument. They tend to strangle or beat their partner." He explained shortly.

"How do you know that they had a fight?"

Mycroft smiled slightly. _Isn't that obvious?_ the look on his face said.

"Alright, they had a fight." John said slowly. "What was it about?"

"Probably that they were still hiding their relationship." Mycroft shrugged. "People tend to do stupid things when they get angry with someone."

"Sentiment as a chemical defect, wasn't it?" John muttered, the sentence Sherlock once said to him coming to his mind. When he looked up and saw the troubled look on Mycroft's face, John realized that he'd said it aloud.

"That is something Sherlock used to say, that's true." Mycroft said slowly. "It was his opinion, not mine."

John nodded slowly. "You don't see it like that."

Now Mycroft raised an eyebrow. "How do you know?"

"I'm not as blind as Sherlock wanted you to believe, Mycroft." I saw the way you looked at your brother when he got himself in trouble. I also see the way you look at me sometimes, when everything gets too much.

"I already know that." Mycroft said simply. "You're an incredibly smart person, John."

He shrugged. "You're smarter. And this was very impressing." He tried to change the subject and hoped that Mycroft would play along. John didn't want to talk about feelings right now. Not even about the absence of feelings.

"We'll talk about it again when Lestrade solved the cases. However, I am quite sure that I got it right."

John chuckled. "I do believe that too." He admitted.

They sat there in silence for a few minutes before Mycroft began to tell him stories about riddles he'd once solved. They were interrupted by John's phone which started to ring.

"Greg." He said with a frown and Mycroft nodded.

"Talk to him, let's see what he wants."

"Alright." John muttered, surprised that Mycroft wanted him to talk to Lestrade.

"Hello?" John answered the call.

"_Hey John, it's Greg. We've solved one of the cases! The one with the woman, Mrs Bright, who's been murdered in her house._" When John saw Mycroft's questioning look, he turned on the speaker.

"Wow, that's good, congratulations. And what did you find out?" He exchanged a look with Mycroft and somehow, John couldn't stop himself from smiling.

"_She was murdered with a bottle, can you believe it? Rum. Apparently, they've bought it ages ago on a holiday. And that's not the craziest thing. The murderer drank from the bottle and we were able to identify him! It's her son._" John had to stop himself from laughing and the satisfied grin on Mycroft's face didn't make it easier.

"Why should he murder his mother?" He asked, trying to sound confused.

"_She didn't have money anymore and soon, he'd have to help her out._"

"Nice reason to murder someone." John muttered.

"_And in the other case, with the girl in the Thames, we've also made progress. Well, or to be honest, the murderer showed up at NSY this afternoon. Turns out she's never been in Paris, she was here with her girlfriend. They had a fight because they were both unhappy with hiding their relationship. But they couldn't tell anyone, the parents would have gotten mad. They still did when we told them that their daughter was gay._"

"And the friends were really in Paris?"

"_We're still trying to contact them, but I think so._ _The perfect cover._"

"So both cases are solved now." John concluded.

"_Yes, about time. They've been very hard, maybe the next ones will be easier._"

"I bet they will be. Can't always be such strange things like this, can they?" John asked, still trying to sound calm.

"_Either way, thanks for thinking about it. I just wanted to let you know that they're finished now. I have to go inside again, we're just questioning the girlfriend. See you on Friday._"

Greg ended the call and John looked at Mycroft. He looked highly satisfied and now John couldn't hold it back anymore. He started to laugh loudly. And Mycroft joined him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Next chapter! I hope you like and please, please let me know what you think! I'd be very happy about that. I'm sorry for possible mistakes in this chapter, it's very late, but I just had to write this now. I hope you like it!  
**

**I don't own the characters or places!**

* * *

Three days later, John was sitting in his armchair in silence. It has been like this ever since Mycroft left on Saturday evening. John had been happy then, they had a really good time. After Greg's call, they had talked about it some more. Of course Mycroft had been very proud that he'd solved the cases just by thinking of them and he didn't mind telling John that a few times. John didn't mind it as well. It was always nice to hear Mycroft talk. And to see him smile, it looked good on him.

Before he left, Mycroft had asked John to take care of himself. It didn't surprise John, after all, Mycroft had surely seen the traces of his panic attack. Apparently, Mycroft would be at work the entire week and he didn't have the time to visit John until next Saturday. However, he'd told John that he could always call when he needed him, he would keep his phone on. The offer had surprised him, but he'd just smiled at Mycroft gratefully. Somehow, he was getting tired of hiding his emotions from him.

The following days, Mrs. Hudson had also been busy. A friend of hers was in London and they met a few times since they didn't see each other for years. When she had told John about the visit on Sunday morning, she'd looked worried. John knew that she didn't want to leave him alone for such a long time, but he'd encouraged her to go. After all, Mrs Hudson didn't have to look after him, he could take care of himself. Then he sat down in his chair and did – well, nothing. Because suddenly, the emptiness that had been there ever since Sherlock's death came back with full force.

But it was alright, he just sat there and tried not to think of too much. Or when he thought about something, he tried just to see the good things. The times when he and Sherlock had fun. The interesting cases, with the happy endings. Well, at least for them. Or the times when Mycroft visited them, pretending that it was urgent when all he wanted to do was look after his brother. Or the times Mrs. Hudson complained about Sherlock's experiments, when there were explosions or limbs in the fridge – and one time even in the washing machine.

It worked until the face of Jim Moriarty showed up in his mind. His face and that crazy, sick smile which had always been on his lips. Especially when he thought about Sherlock. And then, of course, he'd been thinking of Sherlock again. Sherlock standing on that roof. _This phone call, it's, um... It's my note. It's what people do, don't they? Leave a note._

He could see the scene in front of him clearly, his best friend jumping from that roof. Lying on the ground… dead. He'd never come back. John would never see him smile again. He'd never hear his voice again. And his deductions. His brilliant conclusions. John hadn't been able to follow him many times, Sherlock was just thinking too fast. Sometimes even too fast for his own good. How often did John stop him from doing that? From burying himself too deep in his Mind Palace? Or from taking drugs? He'd searched the entire apartment with Mrs Hudson once, when they'd been sure that Sherlock was busy with a case. They had found his hiding places and Sherlock hadn't been that furious…

"Stop it." John muttered to himself. He couldn't do this. He wasn't ready. His best friend was dead for more than two weeks and he still couldn't think of him. Would it ever get better? Now, Sherlock would say –

"I said stop this!" He repeated, louder this time. Just now he noticed that he'd been tapping on the floor with his foot nervously. John stood up abruptly and began to pace the room. But that's what Sherlock always did, wasn't it? When he was thinking too much, just like John right now…

"Just think of something else." John muttered and began to walk to his room. But then he passed the door to Sherlock's room… and turned around again, to the kitchen this time. "Think of better times…"

Better times? Which time of his life had been better? His youth definitely not. And then the war… "Don't think of that, it's not good."

Then he came back and met Sherlock. _The name is Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221B Baker Street_. And that's how the happiest time of his life began –

"Don't think about him." He shook his head, trying to get rid off the thoughts. But then he saw Sherlock's face again, on the day they met. Or when he was wearing that stupid hat… It was still here, in the living room. John had seen it when he'd cleaned up last week, before Mycroft came to visit him. Sherlock didn't like the hat… But were they many things that Sherlock Holmes liked next to solving cases? Unlikely. _I consider myself married to my work_.

And that's what he did, didn't he? Die for his work, the only thing which had been important to him. _Don't be stupid,_ a tiny voice inside John's mind said, _he cared for you. And for Mrs Hudson. Even for his brother. He wasn't that emotionless_.

But why did he jump then? Why on earth did he have to take his life?

With a groan, John took the thing that stood closest to him and threw it through the room – it was an empty glass. It hit the wall and shattered. The sound echoed through the silence and John cried out. He began to pace the room again – it reminded him of Sherlock. Then he sat down in the armchair. When his gaze fell on the other one, empty, he stood up again. That also reminded him of Sherlock. He walked to the couch – and saw the holes in the wall. On the table next to the TV he saw the hat, neatly folded. A few of Sherlock's books were lying on the mantelpiece, together with the knife he'd always used to –

Not a knife. Without thinking of it, John clenched his fists and hit the next thing he could reach. He felt a sharp pain in his right hand when it hit the wall, but he ignored it. Pain was what he needed right now. Maybe it would stop all those thoughts that were slowly driving him crazy.

But it didn't. He sank to the floor slowly, his right hand bleeding. He knew that he should take care of that, but he couldn't. And that's when the tears started to run down his face. When the whole world was crashing down on John. When he realized that he'd lost everything. His best friend, the person who meant most to him, was gone. He was completely alone again. He sat there and cried for what seemed like hours, when suddenly another thought came to his mind. _But you aren't completely alone, right?_ With his good hand, he searched for the phone in his pocket. When he found it, he wiped away the tears in his eyes. It was useless, new ones were following. Could he really call Mycroft?

He was busy, he'd said it himself… He had to work. John couldn't just interrupt him by whatever he was doing, he didn't want to be so selfish. But could he stand being here alone any longer? His thoughts wandered back to the pain in his hand when he hit the wall. And wasn't there a knife –

He pressed the 'call' button.

John tried to control his breathing, he didn't want to sound hysterical when he called Mycroft. But that's what he was, wasn't it? After the second ring, Mycroft answered the call. "_John, is everything alright?_" His voice sounded calm, as always. Or did he sound annoyed? Right now, John couldn't tell. "_John? Are you there? You are worrying me._"

He inhaled shakily, even more tears falling down. "Mycroft, I…" He muttered shakily and didn't know how he could say it. That he needed him, that he couldn't do this anymore. That he wanted this pain to end.

"_I will be there in fifteen minutes._" Mycroft's voice sounded tensed now, John even noticed it next to his loud breathing. "_Just try to stay calm, everything will be fine._" There were noises and John thought that he heard Mycroft telling someone that he had to leave because of an emergency. "_John, are you still there? I'm on my way now._"

"Yeah, still here." He muttered.

"_Stay on the line until I'm there._" And then Mycroft started to tell him about his day at work – normally, a completely boring story. But in this moment, John was grateful to hear Mycroft's voice. After about ten minutes, he heard the front door opening and then there were footsteps on the stairs.

"John?" Mycroft closed the door behind him carefully. John wasn't able to look up, he was still staring at the dark screen of his phone. He was holding it with his left hand, the right one was hurting too much. The sound of Mycroft's umbrella falling to the ground finally made him raise his head. "My god, John."

Before John's mind could process what was happening, Mycroft knelt down next to him and wrapped his arms around John. "Mycroft." He muttered and then he began to cry again. Stupid tears, he didn't want to cry in front of Mycroft Holmes!

"It's alright, John. I'm here. Everything will be fine." Mycroft kept whispering comforting words and just held him while John cried. And probably ruined that expensive suit Mycroft was wearing.

He didn't know how long they stayed there like this, when finally the tears stopped. John was still shivering and Mycroft kept running his hand up and down John's back slowly, trying to calm him down. "I'm sorry." John muttered.

"You don't have to apologize." Mycroft said and tried to smile at John when they let go of each other – he failed, it rather looked like a worried grimace. "I told you to call when you need me." Before John could answer, Mycroft carefully took John's injured hand. "We should clean this." He said slowly and helped John to get to his feet.

However, his knees gave in and he stumbled. The only thing that was keeping him standing were Mycroft's arms, which were wrapped around his waist tightly now. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." John muttered and leaned against the doorframe. "I'm really sorry, Mycroft. I –"

"If you apologize for a third time, I will have to bore you with endless stories of the British Government, John." Mycroft said warningly. "And now come on, let me take care of your hand." Ten minutes later, they were sitting on the couch next to each other. John's hand was bandaged and Mycroft had taken off his jacket, which had been full of John's tears (and maybe some of his blood) either way.

"Shall I make us tea?" Mycroft asked and John nodded gratefully. He watched Mycroft as he stood up and walked to the kitchen. On his way, he picked up his umbrella and leaned it against the wall carefully. Just then John realized that he'd never before seen Mycroft without a jacket.

When Mycroft came back with the tea, John smiled at him. "Thank you, Mycroft. For everything."

"No need to thank me, I'm glad to be here." Mycroft said and smiled as well. He was watching John closely and he knew that the other man was waiting for the next outburst.

"It won't happen again, I'm fine now." John muttered quickly.

Mycroft's face fell and now the worried expression was back. "Like you say it, for now. But what will happen once I am gone again?"

"It was alright –" John started to protest, but Mycroft cut him off.

"John, you've been staring into the air for nearly three days. You didn't leave the flat once. And since Mrs Hudson is outside with her friend, you've been alone all the time. To me, it doesn't sound like everything is fine." Mycroft was sounding serious now and John couldn't really place the tone of his words. Was he angry? Or annoyed, after all?

Mycroft sighed and closed his eyes. When he leaned back, he looked extremely tired. "I am not angry, John. And it also doesn't bother me that I came here, even if I will have to catch up with the work I've missed now soon. " He opened his eyes again and looked directly at John. "I am worried for you. More than I ever thought possible." He laughed dryly. "You nearly gave me a heart-attack with that phone call." Suddenly, he hesitated and looked at John searchingly. Apparently, he found what he was looking for since he continued. "I was worried that you might do something… thoughtless while I was on my way to you. That's why I wanted you to stay on the line."

"You don't have to –"

"John Watson, you will listen to me carefully now!" They had been whispering all the time and now Mycroft's loud words were echoing through the room. John stared at him wide-eyed. He'd never seen Mycroft this upset – well, except when he'd been yelling at Sherlock. "You have to stop apologizing for anything. And you also don't have to thank me for being here. And don't you dare say that I don't have to worry for you. I am here – and now please listen, I don't like to repeat myself – because I want it. I want to be with you, John. I _enjoy_ being with you. I don't do this out of pity or any other sort of compassion. Ever since the one day, I've been worried for you. The thought that something might happen to you is very unpleasant. Call it sentiment, it is true. I _care_ for you, John."

After his speech, Mycroft looked at John silently. Slowly, he let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "I'm glad you're here, Mycroft." John whispered. "And I really like being with you too." His heart was still racing after Mycroft's words. It was making John feel alive again and suddenly, he regretted all those dark thoughts from before. Without thinking about it, he wrapped his arms around Mycroft and hugged him tightly.

To his surprise, Mycroft didn't stiffen or try to push him away. He pulled John even closer. "We'll figure this out together, I promise. You're not alone in this." And for the first time in days, John could relax again.


	6. Chapter 6

**The next chapter! I'm sorry that it's so short, but I thought that it was important to write this. And somehow, it felt right to end it there. The next one will be longer, I promise. Please let me know what you think, I'd love that! **

**I don't own the characters or places!**

* * *

Over the next weeks, they started to develop some kind of routine. Mycroft would go to work and in the afternoon, he stopped by at Baker Street to stay with John for the evening. Then he left again when they were both tired and wanted to go to sleep. Sometimes, he was exhausted after work and they just watched tv together, but John didn't mind that. Other times, Mycroft would type on his laptop in the evening. He apologized for that, but John understood that he needed to work. A few days after his panic attack and when his hand got better again, John started to cook for him and Mycroft. Mycroft had insisted that it wasn't necessary, but John liked to do it. And it gave him something to do, he had far too much time on his own at the moment.

On Fridays, John met with Greg at the bar close to his flat (most of the time they talked about Greg's cases) and usually, Mycroft used that day to do everything that he was pushing aside to be with John. It only took a few days for John to feel guilty because Mycroft sacrificed his free time to be with him. Of course he was very happy that Mycroft was there, but he didn't want the other man to give up his life for him. When he had mentioned it to Mycroft one evening, the answer had been clear. "_I already told you to stop apologizing, John. You are not forcing me to do anything. I am here out of my free will and I enjoy being here. And besides, I am constantly worried when I am not with you, which is highly disturbing. I cannot tolerate something like that._"

About two weeks after the incident, John started to go to work again. He had delayed it as long as possible, but Mycroft had convinced him that it would be good to see other people except Mrs Hudson, Greg and himself. On his first day back at work, John had already expected the worst. He feared that they would ask him about his feelings. About Sherlock. But to his surprise, they didn't. They just told him that they were sorry for his loss and nothing else. He was welcomed back and it was easier than expected to get back into his routine. He even had to admit that he had missed working. To talk to the people, being able to help. He even enjoyed the flirting of one of his colleagues which started a week after his return. She was a nice woman, her name was Angelina. She'd been working there for about three months by now. Normally, John would have flirted back immediately. She wasn't too tall, long, black hair, her skin slightly tanned and blue eyes. She was not his type. Not at all. Well, maybe except for the eyes. He'd always liked blue eyes, but when he thought of them, John always saw the face of someone else.

So when Angelina asked him out one day, he declined politely. She was disappointed, but not too much, which was good. He didn't want to have something standing between them at work, she was really nice and he liked her. Just not like that.

Also a part of their routine was the black car that was waiting for John when he wanted to go home from work. Most of the times, Mycroft was there and they drove to Baker Street together, which was fine by John. Sometimes, however, the car was empty and the driver told him that Mycroft would be late because some kind of incident at work. John had told Mycroft that he shouldn't send a car then, he was a grown man and able to get home from work alone.

On a very rainy Thursday about four weeks after his panic attack, John was surprised to find Mycroft waiting for him when he left work. He was standing in the rain with his umbrella, wearing a dark blue coat that matched his suit perfectly. When he saw John, a smile spread on his face. "You are late." Mycroft said when he got closer so that the umbrella protected them both from the rain.

"Yeah, well, it's not easy to be fast when your patient is about ninety years old, with a broken hand and can't even button up his jacket by himself." John said lightly, wondering why Mycroft was waiting for him here. Normally, he just waited in the car until John arrived. "Did I miss something or why are you here? You didn't have to wait for me in the rain."

Mycroft chuckled. "The weather is unpleasant, that is true."

"Though no surprise for London, especially at this time of the year." It was autumn and soon it would get even colder.

"Point for you." Mycroft muttered and stopped on the sidewalk, a few meters away from the car. John nearly ran into him at the sudden stop and Mycroft got hold of his arm to steady him. "I'm sorry."

John chuckled and noticed that he'd grabbed Mycroft's hand which was holding the umbrella when he tried not to stumble. "It's fine." He whispered and their eyes locked. Blue eyes, which had caught his attention from the first time he'd met him. In a dark, cold warehouse. Back then, John hadn't thought about it very much. He had been too overwhelmed by the whole situation. And by Sherlock Holmes, his new flatmate. And then he got to know that the mysterious man was Sherlock's brother, which didn't make it any easier. The first time he'd paid more attention to Mycroft Holmes was at one of his visits about half a year ago by now…

Mycroft cleared his throat which took John back to reality. Slowly, he let go off Mycroft's hand and at the same time, Mycroft's hand left his arm. Had their faces been this close before or did they lean in? "There is a reason why I'm here, John." Mycroft said softly and his hand which was holding the umbrella twitched slightly. John wouldn't have noticed it, if he wouldn't have paid attention to it just in that moment. Was Mycroft nervous? "I wanted to ask you something."

John raised his eyebrows at him in surprise. "Alright, must be something important when you endure standing in the rain for it." He hoped that it sounded lightly and when Mycroft chuckled, he knew that he succeeded. What could he possibly want to ask him? And why was he nervous? Before John could think about it any longer – and probably panic because maybe, just maybe Mycroft didn't want to spend time with him anymore – Mycroft spoke again.

"I wanted to ask if you would like to have dinner with me, John. There is a nice little restaurant not far from here and I have reserved a table…" And there it was again, the twitch of his hand. Mycroft Holmes was nervous! If he wouldn't have gotten to know him better lately, he would definitely not have noticed this. And did he just ask John out for dinner? "Of course I would understand if you prefer to go back to Baker Street. I would never force you to go somewhere with many people, knowing that you don't feel comfortable around them yet. I just thought that maybe we could have a nice evening there together."

Mycroft, always the gentleman, John thought. If John would say it, he'd just go back with him to Baker Street like they'd done it those past weeks. He would never force John to do something he didn't want. And he understood that he was still feeling bad about Sherlock, even if the pain had become easier to bear lately. And all because of Mycroft. Mycroft, who'd been there when John needed him most. Who was still coming every day and who really seemed to care for him, like he'd already admitted once. And who'd emphasized more than once that he enjoyed John's company (even if he didn't like to repeat himself). Moriarty had called him the Iceman once. He'd been so wrong. John had realized that when Mycroft cared about someone, he'd do anything to be there for that person. He'd seen it with Sherlock. And now with himself.

John felt a smile spreading out on his lips. "Mycroft Holmes, did you just ask me out?" The words were out before he could stop himself. His eyes widened slightly when he realized what he'd just said. To Mycroft. Who was standing there tensed and looked at him with the unreadable expression on his face John hadn't seen very often in the past weeks. "I'm sorry, I just –" He started when Mycroft didn't react, but then he felt Mycroft's hand on his arm and he stopped.

Slowly, Mycroft started to relax and he smiled at John, there was a gleam in his eyes. "Yes, I think I just did that." He said slowly. "So John, will you do me the honour and go out with me this evening?"

John nodded and smiled back at him. "I'd love to."


	7. Chapter 7

**The next chapter is finally there! I'm so sorry that it took me ages to write it, but I've been very busy at the university with many exams. I hope you understand. Please let me know what you think, I'd really like to hear your thoughts to the story so far! **

**I don't own the characters or places! **

* * *

"You should have seen his face." John said with a grin. "And then the old lady took her walking stick and started to hit him."

Mycroft chuckled softly. "I bet you found that highly amusing."

John laughed. "I did. However, I stopped her before she could really hurt Greg."

Mycroft pretended to look impressed. "You are a really good friend to him, saving him from an old lady. This could have been dangerous for you, John. Should I be worried that you take such a risk?"

The look on Mycroft's face made him laugh even louder. "Very dangerous business, the work of a Detective Inspector." He agreed and rolled his eyes.

Mycroft smiled which made his heart beat faster and John realized that he hadn't been this happy in a long time. It was a Sunday afternoon and they were walking through a park together. Mycroft had been on a trip the past week for work, somewhere in France. Which meant that John had been alone for several days, the first time since his panic attack about three months ago. It was Winter now, Christmas would come soon and Mycroft had been worried that John would get in a sad mood again or do something stupid when they didn't see each other for a few days. He had already cancelled other trips to be with John, but this one was really important and couldn't be delayed. Of course John had told Mycroft immediately that it wasn't necessary to cancel the trip and that he would be fine for a few days on his own. He didn't need someone to look after him all the time anymore. The phase where everything in his life seemed pointless was over – thanks to Mycroft Holmes. And the week without him had been alright, he'd gone to work and Mycroft called every evening. Of course he'd missed Mycroft, but he never told him that. On Friday, Greg had told him about a case they couldn't solve and John had offered to help them on Saturday.

The case had been interesting, and in the end, they had to deal with the old lady with the walking stick, who wanted to prevent Greg and the other police officers from arresting her daughter. The lady had been about ninety years old and the attack had surprised all of them. However, she nearly couldn't stand without support and wasn't very fast, so it hadn't been difficult to calm her down.

On Sunday, Mycroft had returned in the morning and they had agreed to meet each other in the afternoon, there was a small café in the city that Mycroft liked very much. After drinking their tea, they had decided to go for a walk. It was a cold, but beautiful day. The sun was shining and John really liked being outside again. Next to him, Mycroft seemed to enjoy it as well.

Nevertheless, there was something that bothered John. It had been on his mind for the past weeks, ever since Mycroft had asked John to go out with him for the first time. After that, they had been to several other restaurants and John really enjoyed being there with him. However, they never did anything else than talking. Mycroft never reached out to take John's hand or did anything else. It was driving John crazy. And that he didn't know how to get closer to Mycroft as well didn't make it any better. With women, it had always been easy. However, this wasn't a woman. John had never before been with a man and except for Mycroft, he also had never been attracted to a man. And he really didn't want to screw this up by making the wrong move. Mycroft was too important to him. He couldn't stand it when he would push him away. John just couldn't lose another person close to him. Not after Sherlock.

One night, when Mycroft had been at Baker Street after a long day at work and they'd both fallen asleep in front of the tv, John had woken up just to find Mycroft's arms wrapped around him. He'd woken him because it had been very late already and they both needed to work the next day – and John had been sure that Mycroft had kissed the top of his head before collecting his things to leave. But John had been very tired and he'd still been dizzy from the feeling of Mycroft's arm around his shoulders, so he could have also imagined that.

That was everything that ever happened between them. After that night, it seemed as if Mycroft always tried to keep a distance between himself and John. And John hated it.

Did Mycroft feel uncomfortable when they got too close? Or was John just imagining all this and Mycroft wasn't attracted to him as well? But he had noticed that Mycroft got nervous when they got closer. It was difficult to see, but once John knew the signs, he recognized them. Most of the time it was just a twitch of Mycroft's fingers. Sometimes, he cleared his throat and changed the subject. Or he grabbed the umbrella he was always carrying with him tighter.

Was he really just friendly? He told him that he enjoyed being with John several times. And Mycroft always visited him on his free will. John rarely asked when they could see each other again, most of the time Mycroft just suggested when they could meet again. Or they didn't talk about it at all and just saw each other the next day. And that was nothing friends did… Mrs. Hudson had even tried to ask John once if Mycroft was his boyfriend. He had nearly choked his tea back then, too surprised by her question. 'But he visits you nearly every day, even if he is busy with his work. And he cares for you, I can tell by the way he looks at you, John.' But didn't she also think that Sherlock was his boyfriend not long after they moved in together? Or was she more serious this time?

Honestly, John just didn't know what to do. First, he thought that he just liked Mycroft and he appreciated his company very much, especially after Sherlock's death. But he began to enjoy it very fast and he realized that he liked him. Very much, to be honest. And it seemed as if Mycroft liked him as well. But should he risk what they had now by making a move? He wasn't even sure how their relationship could be described now. After all, they were going out with each other for weeks, weren't they?

"John, are you alright?" Mycroft's voice ripped him out of his thoughts and took him back to reality. They were walking through the park next to each other and Mycroft looked at him questioningly. He was swinging his umbrella back and forth while he was walking and John thought that it was cute. He couldn't stop his lips from twitching.

"Yes, I'm fine. Just got lost in thoughts." He replied simply.

However, Mycroft didn't drop the subject that easily. He frowned. "Are you sure that everything is fine? You looked frustrated."

John shook his head. "Did I? Wasn't feeling that way." He lied. He knew that it was stupid, lying to Mycroft. After all, he was a master of deductions. But he couldn't help it, the thought that Mycroft could suspect what he'd been thinking made him feel uncomfortable.

"You know that it's pointless to lie, John." Mycroft sighed and suddenly, his expression turned worried. It was still new to John, that Mycroft showed his feelings like that. He did that just when they were alone, as soon as they had company, he kept his face a neutral mask. That was something the brothers had in common, Sherlock also hadn't shown his feelings very often in public. And when he did, it was mostly annoyance or the arrogant 'I am Sherlock Holmes and better than all of you'-smile.

He cleared his throat. "It's nothing, really." He repeated and hoped that Mycroft would drop the subject. Of course he didn't.

"It has something to do with me, otherwise you would tell me what's bothering you." Mycroft began and narrowed his eyes. Now he would start his deductions and then he would know what's going on in John's head either way. He could also just tell him –

"Hey, John! Dr. Watson!" A voice behind them called loudly and interrupted their conversation. John and Mycroft turned around quickly, just to see a man with a camera walking towards them. John forced back a sigh. Great. Another reporter. As if they hadn't been following him around enough in the past months. He still didn't tell them anything about Sherlock and now they tried to force a statement out of him every time they saw him. It was tiring. And at the same time, John wanted to tell them the truth. He hated it that they were still publishing lies about his best friend.

Next to him, John heard Mycroft mutter something about respecting privacy. Somehow, he knew that the reporter would not be talking to someone this openly again.

"Sherlock Holmes is dead for a few months by now. How are you feeling about that?" The man asked without waiting for John to ask what he wanted. Luckily, he didn't take photos of them yet. He knew that Mycroft wouldn't like it. A glance at him told John that he wasn't very happy about this at all, his face was a neutral mask. However, the look in his eyes was cold and calculating. John hoped that Mycroft would never look at him like this.

"And everyone says that he's a liar. That he made everything up in the past and wasn't as clever as he claimed to be. Can you tell me something about this? Is it true? Did the two of you just make that up?" The man searched for a writing pad and a pen in his pocket and looked at John with an eager look on his face.

He breathed in deeply. As much as he'd like to tell them the truth about Sherlock, he didn't want it to be like this. "I will not make a statement about this right now." He said calmly and hoped that he could keep his expression neutral as well.

To his surprise, the man didn't seem to be upset about it. "And when will you be ready to talk about him?" He asked immediately. "We could already set a date. It would give me the time to prepare more questions –"

"Dr. Watson does not want to talk about this right now." Mycroft cut him off politely. "If he wants to talk, I am sure that he will get in touch with you."

The reporter turned to Mycroft slowly and it seemed as if it was the first time that he realized that John had company. Mycroft was still smiling at him politely, however the look in his eyes was hard. The man swallowed and took half a step back. When he looked at John again, his smile wasn't as enthusiastic anymore. "Yes, well. I can give you my number, then you can call me when you want to talk." He wrote something down and handed John a piece of paper. "Have a good day." He glanced at Mycroft again, turned around and walked away quickly.

John looked at the piece of paper in his hand for a few moments. When he glanced at Mycroft, he saw a thoughtful expression on his face. He crumbled up the paper and threw it into the next garbage can. Then they continued their walk in silence.

After a few minutes, John sighed. "They will never leave me alone if I don't make a statement."

Mycroft nodded. "But do you want to offer yourself to those sharks just to save the reputation of my brother? There are two possibilities. Either they leave you alone when they got their answers, or they will keep going after you even then. However, I suspect that it would be the first option."

John smiled slightly. "If you think so, I bet that it would be like this."

Mycroft didn't smile back at him. It seemed as if the encounter had erased his good mood. Or maybe their conversation from before? "I have already tried to make them leave you alone." He muttered. "However, the press is difficult to control. They have their own mind and don't stop until they get what they want."

When Mycroft's words sank in, John gasped. "You did what?" He muttered, shocked by the news that Mycroft tried to tell the press to leave John alone.

Mycroft raised his eyebrows, and to John, it seemed as if the question surprised him. "You cannot possibly think that I would let them harass you all the time, John."

"Yeah, I mean, it's great that you tried something like that. But Mycroft… the press? Telling them what to do is a big deal. And I don't think that I'm…" He hesitated, not sure how to say it. _I don't think that I'm worth something like that_. That would have explained it very well, nevertheless he didn't want to say it like that.

Mycroft's expression softened. "That you are what, John?" He asked and stopped walking. Only now John realized that they were standing under a few trees, close to a small lake, far away from the main paths in the park. Mycroft had led him there. Probably to avoid being disturbed again.

He sighed. "You're already doing so much for me, Mycroft." He began slowly. "And I'm really grateful for that. But this is _huge_, if you understand what I mean. I can deal with them myself, you don't have to help me with that as well. You've got more important things to do, with your work and everything that goes along with it."

"And if I want to do this for you?" Mycroft asked simply and looked at the water for a few moments. The sun was reflected on the surface and it looked beautiful. Peaceful, even, if you ignored the sounds of the city surrounding you. However, John didn't look at the water that much. He was looking at the man next to him, who had this unreadable expression on his face again. Mycroft's eyes were shining in the sunlight and John could almost see this thoughts racing in his mind right now.

He decided to break the silence between them. "I wouldn't stop you, you know?" He said quietly and when Mycroft turned to him again, there was surprise on his face.

"And I always thought that John Watson didn't like people to solve his problems." Mycroft muttered.

"I don't." John's answer came fast and he saw the disappointment in Mycroft's eyes, so he continued quickly. "But it's different with you." Slowly, he took a step closer to Mycroft. "I just don't want you go overwork yourself because of me or to get in trouble."

Mycroft chuckled, however his expression was thoughtful. "I can take care of myself, John. You should know that."

"Just like you know that I can look after myself as well." John replied softly. "And nonetheless, you're doing so much for me."

Mycroft looked at John in silence for a few moments, but now there was something new in the look on his face. Something John hadn't seen before. And he couldn't quite place it. "You will not believe this, but you are also doing so many things for me, John." Mycroft whispered in a soft tone and before John could even fully understand the meaning of those words, Mycroft cleared his throat and changed the subject.

"I think our conversation from earlier has been rudely interrupted. We didn't get a chance to finish it. You were frustrated." Now his tone was composed again and John ran a hand through his hair. Sometimes, this man was confusing him so much that he'd like to scream. His mind was still trying to process what Mycroft just told him and now he just talked about something else. Something even more unpleasant. Unless…

"Yeah, I was." He admitted, knowing that trying to hide it again wouldn't do much good.

"And it was because of me." Mycroft said simply and frowned. "Was it because I was gone for the week? I didn't want to upset you with this. I am sorry if it has been unpleasant for you. I will try not to leave for such a long period of time again."

So Mycroft really thought that it had something to do with his trip to France. "It's not that." He interrupted him. "Being alone for the week was fine and we talked every day, Mycroft. Of course I missed you, but I was alright. You shouldn't have worried so much about that."

Did he just imagine it or did Mycroft relax at his words? So he had been worried…

"And what is the cause for your frustration if it isn't about the past week?"

He sighed. How on earth could he explain this to Mycroft? Could he even do that? Tell him how much he meant to him? If Mycroft didn't see it like that… Taking a deep breath, John asked "What are we, Mycroft?"

He didn't know what he expected. Maybe confusion? Or that Mycroft would chuckle and say, 'You are my best friend, John, why do you even need to ask?'. However, Mycroft's reaction was a different one.

He froze, his body stiffening and he grabbed the umbrella in his hands tighter. John couldn't interpret the look on Mycroft's face and it made him swallow. Apparently, it had been a bad idea to ask this. Nevertheless, the words were out now and he couldn't take them back anymore. "What do you mean, John?" Mycroft asked slowly, a guarded tone in his voice.

John couldn't stop himself from sighing. "We went on several dates in the past weeks, if you want to call it like that." _You already did, but just once and only because I came up with it_ he thought. "And we spend every free minute together. And I, on my part, do enjoy being with you very much. What does this make us?"

Mycroft's face was still showing that strange look, but by the way his eyes widened slightly, John could see that his words shocked him. "You cannot possibly think that I don't enjoy being with you." It looked like he wanted to say something else, so John just waited patiently. Well, as patient as you could be in a situation like this. His heart was racing and despite the cold weather, his hands were sweaty. Mycroft breathed in deeply. "You must understand that I didn't expect you to ask something like this. You took me by surprise."

John nodded. "I saw that. And I really don't think that being with me is awful for you or anything like that. After all, you told me several times, that you –"

"Enjoyed being with you, I remember that I did, on a few occasions." Mycroft's lips twitched and slowly, his shoulders relaxed again. However, he was still holding the umbrella tightly. "Why do you want to know this? What we are?" John noticed the curiosity in his voice, something that rarely happened with Mycroft. He would already know that, wouldn't he? After all, he could read John so well.

"Maybe I'd like to know where this is going." John admitted slowly, deciding not to hide anything from Mycroft anymore. They'd danced around each other long enough. And just like that, he decided to drop the mask of calmness on his face. And he tried to put everything he felt for Mycroft into that look. His gratefulness for being there when he needed someone the most, his happiness that this amazing man always returned to him, even if John was able to deal with his life again, and the wonder that one of the most brilliant people, someone who could have anyone, had chosen him. And of course how much he wanted to be close to him. To be able to hold his hand and kiss him.

In that moment, Mycroft's mask vanished from his face and John could see several feelings in his expression. Insecurity, a strong longing and something he couldn't quite place. "John…" Mycroft muttered and raised his hand, as if he wanted to reach out for him. However, he stopped within the movement and hesitated.

"If you would ask me that question, I'd already know the answer." John said quietly. "And I bet you know my answer too, since you're so good at reading people."

"You know that this won't be easy." Mycroft muttered, his voice sounding raw. John had never seen him like this before, not even on the funeral of his brother. Mycroft had always been so controlled, so calm. He never lost control. "There will always be people who want to get a hold on me, and that makes it dangerous for people who are close to me. And I don't want you to get in danger, John. You are too important. I already told you that the thought that something might happen to you is highly disturbing. And this is also why I held back for so long. It is wiser to keep you at a distance. Safer for you."

"And if I don't care?" John asked slowly. His heart was racing. So that's why Mycroft held back in the past weeks. Because he was afraid that something might happen to him. "You know that I can take care of myself. What I've been through. Back in the war and also with Sherlock. I'll be fine." Slowly, he took a step closer to him. "I want this, Mycroft. With you. Screw the risks."

Mycroft looked at him silently for a few moments. "Did I ever tell you that you are a very special person and never cease to amaze me? Which is not easy, I should mention."

And that's what it did. The small, unsure smile on Mycroft's lips that followed his words made John chuckle softly. And before he really knew what he was doing, he'd grabbed the front of Mycroft's coat and kissed him. First, Mycroft stiffened. But after a few moments, he wrapped his arms around John's shoulders and kissed him back. It was a strange feeling, kissing someone who was taller than himself. But John enjoyed every moment of it. When they finally parted again, there was a gleam in Mycroft's eyes and he grinned. John had never seen him this carefree. "I've already imagined how kissing you would feel." That sentence out of Mycroft's mouth made John's heart beat even faster, if that was possible.

"And how was it? As good as you imagined?" His voice sounded breathless and Mycroft chuckled.

"Better."

They made their way back to the car mostly in silence. As soon as they left the lake, Mycroft took John's hand and he didn't let go the entire walk. It was a strange feeling, walking around like this. So openly, and with Mycroft Holmes, of all people. The feeling was thrilling and John still couldn't completely understand that Mycroft wanted him. And that he'd tried to push those feelings aside to protect John. But John knew that he would have done the same. He'd do anything for this man. His… boyfriend?

He could get used to that.

* * *

When the car stopped in front of 221 B Baker Street, Mycroft kissed John again. "I'll visit you tomorrow after work?" He asked and John nodded with a smile. Tomorrow was his first day off since he started working again and Mycroft wanted to come by in the early afternoon. If he'd get to leave his work that early.

"That would be great. And be careful."

Mycroft chuckled. "Maybe the government will try to bore me to death, but that's the only threat there."

John grinned. "See you tomorrow."

He followed the car with his eyes when it drove away on the street. When he turned around, he saw a woman standing in front of 221 B. "Kelly, is that you?" John asked slowly, surprised to see her there. She was a reporter for one of the big papers in London and she'd often written about their cases. John had liked her very much and even Sherlock seemed to like her, because every time the papers wanted to write something about them, he requested her. Or probably he did that because she was the only one who told the stories like they really were and didn't make anything up.

"John, it's good to see you!" She hugged him and he smiled at her.

"What are you doing here?"

She smiled slightly, her cheeks turning red. "First, I'm so sorry for your loss, John. I know this must be still hard for you. Well, I'm here for business, actually. And I'm so sorry for that, I don't want to bother you. I know that there are lots of others who already do that and I don't want to be like them…"

John raised his eyebrows. "You want to make an interview with me because of Sherlock?" He guessed and she nodded.

"I know that all those stories about the lying detective are bullshit." She said and John was surprised by her choice of words. "Sherlock was brilliant and he couldn't have made all those things up. And I want to tell people the truth. The real truth, just like you say it. Without making things up or presenting you as another liar."

John thought about this for a few moments. Wasn't this what he always wanted? Telling people the truth about Sherlock Holmes, his best friend. Making things right again. Mycroft told him that it would be unwise to talk to the press, but this opportunity… And he knew her, she would never write something he didn't want… "I'll do it, but just if I can see the article before it's published."

Her face light up. "Of course you can see it, that's no problem. Sherlock also wanted to see the things I wrote about you before we published them." Did he? He never told John about that. "When do you have time for an interview?"

"Well, tomorrow is my day off at work. I'd be free in the morning, if you have the time…?"

She nodded immediately, smiling widely. "That would be great. Where do you want to meet?"

John chuckled. "The address is 221 B Baker Street."


	8. Chapter 8

**The next chapter! I hope you like it and please let me know what you think! Thanks to everyone who follows this story or wrote a review, it makes me very happy! **

**I don't own the characters or places!**

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John sat in his armchair and looked out of the window thoughtfully. Kelly had left about an hour ago and Mycroft would arrive soon. Of course he would already know what John had done, the question was what he thought of it.

First, their conversation about Sherlock had been a little awkward, but after a few minutes of talking, the knot in John's stomach had come loose. And then it had been easy. Kelly asked many questions about their cases and John answered them enthusiastically. He also mentioned their most funny or most dangerous cases, the problems that got along with them and how they had solved them in the end. In all his stories, he emphasized how brilliant Sherlock had been and that it wouldn't have been possible to solve the cases without his intellect.

Kelly was also brilliant, all her questions made it clear that she didn't believe the stories about the lying detective at all. That she wanted to tell the people the truth. Her last question had been very personal and John was still thinking of it.

"He wasn't just your partner in work. He was also your best friend. I bet you miss him."

"I do." He'd answered simply.

"What would you tell him now, in this moment, if he'd still be with us?"

John had looked at her thoughtfully. "What would I tell him? That's a good question… I would say thank you. For everything." When John didn't add anything, Kelly had ended the interview.

She's promised to send him the article in the evening, then he could read it and it would be published as soon as possible. It felt like a big weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Finally, people were going to hear the truth about Sherlock Holmes and not those lies of the press. Until now, John didn't realize how sad it had made him, that people talked about his best friend like this. He really hoped that no one would question his version of the events.

Would he really say thank you to Sherlock, if he'd still be there? He'd never done that, but you don't need to thank someone for being your friend, do you? And most of the time, Sherlock had been more annoying or frustrating than anything else… But he'd been John's best friend either way. And they also had much fun. Yes, talking about feelings and stuff wasn't something they did often, but either way…

John sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He'd known that he would miss Sherlock after this interview. However, he didn't expect it to be like this. The sadness which had controlled him for weeks after his death was gone and now there was just… an emptiness. A hollow place in his heart where his best friend had been before. Yes, that could describe it.

But there was also something else. And that feeling was gratefulness for being able to experience all those things with Sherlock. When they first met, John had no idea what he'd just thrown himself into. After a short time, he'd started to like it. Not just the danger and the excitement that went along with it, also the cases. The thrill of a new case hadn't just caught Sherlock every time. John had also been excited when Lestrade or other clients came with something new.

So yes, he was grateful for meeting Sherlock Holmes. It changed his whole life. And without Sherlock, he would have never met his brother… The most important person in John's life now. Which reminded him again of the fact that Mycroft would arrive soon.

At that thought, John smiled widely. He'd kissed Mycroft yesterday! His heart began to beat a little faster and now he felt a different kind of excitement. To calm himself down, he started to make tea. What would Mycroft say, when John told him about the interview? He knew that Mycroft wouldn't be happy with this, after all, he tried to keep the press away from John for weeks…

There was a knock on the door and John grinned. "Come in!" He called and then Mycroft Holmes entered the flat. His long coat was open and he was just taking off a black scarf. As usual, he was carrying his umbrella in his right hand. When he saw John and the tea on the table, a smile appeared on his lips and replaced the stressed expression which had been there before. Nevertheless, the concern in his eyes remained.

Mycroft took off his coat and looked at John with a small smile on his lips, his expression a little insecure. It was obvious that he didn't know what to do. John decided to spare him this decision and took a step towards him. "It's good to see you, Mycroft." He said softly and smiled back at him. When Mycroft didn't say anything and made no attempt to turn away, John carefully touched his cheek.

Mycroft's reaction surprised him. He wrapped both arms around John's shoulders and kissed him deeply. The kiss didn't last long, only a few seconds, before Mycroft pulled back. "Is it inappropriate to say that I've missed you, John?"

He chuckled. "No, not at all. And we've only been apart for half a day." He took his hand and pulled him towards the couch.

"That is inessential." Mycroft replied immediately. "It is always disturbing not to have you around."

"I've missed you too." John said with a smile and squeezed Mycroft's hand. "And you don't have to worry about me."

"I know that." Mycroft said simply and suddenly, he frowned. "But I don't think that I can stop doing this, John."

"It's alright. I'm also thinking about you very much. Especially when you're at work."

"You know that I am always at work when I'm not with you." Mycroft's tone told John that he understood what he wanted to say. He was also worried that something might happen all the time.

For a few minutes, they drank their tea in silence, enjoying each other's company. John was already starting to wonder if Mycroft knew about his interview with Kelly. However, the question was answered soon enough.

"You talked to a reporter this morning." Mycroft said simply and John could hear that he didn't approve of this. "She waited for you in front of the house last evening."

John didn't know what to say, so he just nodded.

"If I would have known this, I would have accompanied you inside." It was obvious that Mycroft wasn't happy with this situation.

"I can deal with them on my own." John interrupted him quickly. "And we've talked to her before, Kelly's very nice. She never wrote anything bad about Sherlock, and I can read her article before it's published. So when there's something that bothers me, she'll change it."

Mycroft didn't look convinced. "I didn't want you to talk to them." He admitted slowly. "Even if she will write the interview truthfully. You know that a single talk about my brother won't end the whole subject, John. More people will want a statement from you. And there will also be people who doubt your version of the events."

He sighed. "I know what. But Mycroft, those reporters followed me around for months now. It can't get worse. And I feel better now that people will hear my version. The truth. They can doubt it as much as they want, I don't care."

"You do. It would anger you." Mycroft threw in and John resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Alright, yes, you're right. But this was important to me, I've wanted to tell them the truth for weeks now. This was the perfect chance, so I took it without thinking about it twice." He smiled slightly. "I had to do this."

Mycroft looked at him for a few moments and narrowed his eyes, before he nodded. "You're right, it would have never let you rest. However, when another reporter will stand in front of your door, a friend or a stranger, I will have to interfere and make sure that this will not happen again." His expression was serious now. "If I think about it again, I will make sure that no one bothers you again tomorrow."

John cleared his throat. "Mycroft…"

"We will not discuss this, John." Mycroft said simply. "I will not change my mind about this."

He sighed, knowing when he lost an argument. "Alright. I don't like them following me around either way." He thought of the reporter the previous afternoon.

Mycroft seemed to be satisfied with his answer since he smiled again and relaxed. "You look happy." He remarked.

John chuckled. "I _am _happy." He agreed and grinned at Mycroft. "After all, you're here."

"That's not what I meant. Even if I like to hear that." He said. "I expected you to be sad after the interview."

"Oh, that." John muttered. "Well, yes, I thought that as well. And it makes me sad, thinking of Sherlock so much."

"Then why are you smiling?"

"I realized something, this morning." John told him and now there was a curious look on Mycroft's face. "Of course I miss Sherlock and I'm still sad that he's gone. But I am also grateful for the time we had together. And without him, I would have never met you."

Mycroft looked at him searchingly for a few moments, before he nodded. "I'm glad that you see it like this now." He admitted.

Without thinking about it, John leaned in and kissed him. This time, their kiss lasted longer and soon, they had their arms wrapped around each other. Mycroft was wearing his suit, but John didn't care about it very much right now. And it didn't seem like the other man minded a few folds in the material. When they parted again, they were both breathing heavily.

"Wow." John muttered and grinned at Mycroft. He'd never thought that Mycroft Holmes would kiss him like this. And that he was so good at it.

Mycroft grinned as well. "That would describe it very well." He agreed and before John knew what was happening, Mycroft kissed him again. This time, he drew back more quickly. However, his arm remained wrapped around John's shoulders.

"How was your day?" John asked, still smiling.

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "It would bore you to hear about this." When John just looked at him patiently, he raised his eyebrows. "Alright, then I'll tell you. It still surprises me that you really want to hear about this."

"I'm interested in everything you do." John said simply and Mycroft chuckled.

"I've never met someone who was interested in my work before. Or in me at all." Mycroft whispered and suddenly, he looked uncomfortable.

John put a hand on his cheek. "Then it was about time that you found someone."

"You will lose your interest soon." Mycroft muttered darkly.

He shook his head immediately. "No. Not going to happen." He said simply. "You know that I'm serious about this."

"Yes, now, but –" Mycroft started again, but John interrupted him.

"No. I'll never change my mind about this." He repeated and smiled when the insecurity in Mycroft's eyes vanished slowly. "I'll never change my mind about you." John added.

"I know that you're serious about this." Mycroft sighed. "I hate feeling this… insecure." He admitted.

John smiled. "But that's normal. Who knows, maybe one day I'll be too boring for you?" He tried to joke, but the serious expression on Mycroft's face wouldn't vanish.

"This is not funny, John. I will also not change my mind about you. I know very well what I want." Mycroft said seriously and his words made John's heart beat faster.

"I do that too." He whispered. They looked into each other's eyes for a few moments, Mycroft's eyes were narrowed slightly. After what felt like hours to John, Mycroft relaxed and nodded.

"You're sure about this."

John nodded with a smile. "Yes. And don't worry, to me this is also very new."

Mycroft laughed dryly. "You have more experience in relationships than I do."

John shook his head. "Not like this."

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Just because you've never been with a man before –" He started, but John interrupted him.

"It's not that. Yes, I've never been with a man and next to you, I've never even looked at another man like this. That's true. But this is not about your gender, Mycroft. I've had relationships before, but this is different. This is far more serious than everything I've ever had with anyone else. I really want to make this work. And I'm afraid that I might do something wrong, that I'll screw this up." The last words had been barely a whisper and he didn't look at Mycroft while saying those things.

His words were followed by silence and when John finally looked up again, he saw that Mycroft's eyes were wide. He was smiling and looked touched by his words. "I want to make this work as well, John."

He leaned in and placed a quick kiss on his lips. "Then we'll just make it work, how does that sound?" John asked and Mycroft chuckled.

"I like your enthusiasm." Mycroft was smiling softly. "And this is a very good idea, John."

Then Mycroft began to tell John about his day at work. There wasn't much to say, mostly they had just summarized the events in France. And there would be a meeting with the Prime Minister soon.

"And did you do anything next to the interview?" Mycroft asked after he finished his summary.

John shook his head. "I've been thinking very much. About Sherlock. And us." He explained. "I have to let go of all this anger his death caused."

Mycroft smiled. "You already did that. Admitting this to yourself is just the last step."

John nodded. "Probably you're right."

"Tomorrow, your story will be published, if she wrote everything correctly." Mycroft sounded thoughtful. "Do you want to read it alone or will we have a look at the article together?"

This simple suggestion made John's heart beat faster again. Just the fact that Mycroft always talked about _them_ made him happy. "After work?" He asked and Mycroft nodded.

"I'll make dinner." John muttered, more to himself. "And when I met Mrs. Hudson this morning, she said something about cake and if we want to join her tomorrow."

Mycroft looked surprised. "Didn't she mean you?"

John smiled and shook his head. "Nope, she meant both of us. She made that very clear. And I bet she'll also want to know what we are now."

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Why is this question so important to everyone?"

John laughed. "Just accept it. And I already told Mrs. Hudson that we'd come, so you won't be able to talk yourself out of this."

"You're impossible." Mycroft muttered, but he was smiling.


	9. Chapter 9

**The next chapter! I hope you like it, please let me know what you think! While writing this, I listened to "Love Someone" by Lukas Graham. And thank you for all the reviews and thanks to everyone who follows this story! **

**I don't own the characters or places! **

* * *

The interview was published the next day. It was in one of the big papers and John didn't doubt that most people would read it. After all, Sherlock had been kind of a celebrity in London. And in other parts of the country as well.

Kelly was brilliant. John had read the interview before it was published, and he'd been surprised. She didn't change a single word he'd said. Not even his pauses, when he'd hesitated, searching for the right words. And she made it very clear that she believed his story. John was glad about that.

He read it again in the paper the next afternoon, together with Mycroft and Mrs. Hudson. It was strange, sitting with both of them at the table, drinking tea and eating cake. Mrs. Hudson had persuaded Mycroft to eat something as well, he'd declined first because of his diet. To John's surprise, the tension he'd expected wasn't there. It was nice, talking to both of them. Mycroft and Mrs. Hudson got along well, when they weren't arguing about Sherlock or the rules in her house.

Mostly, they talked about the interview. And Mrs. Hudson told them stories about Sherlock, there were a few things John missed when he was at work. And she told them the story how she'd met Sherlock. It was hilarious. One day, he just stood in front of her door, asking when her flat would be free. She hadn't even been searching for a new tenant yet, the old one had moved out only a few days ago. Sherlock never explained how he knew that the flat would be free, and on some point Mrs. Hudson had stopped asking. She'd accepted the fact that Sherlock just knew things.

When John announced that he and Mycroft were together now, she'd squealed and hugged them tightly. Mycroft had stiffened and when she let go of him again, he'd avoided looking at her. John had just taken his hand and squeezed it. This made him relax again.

After that, they went upstairs. John wanted to cook something and to his surprise, Mycroft asked if he needed his help.

So now they were in the kitchen, cutting vegetables and cooking dinner. Mycroft had just taken off his jacket and his vest, rolled up his sleeves and started to help John, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. First, John couldn't do anything else than stare at him. He'd never seen him like this before, only in a white shirt, without his vest and the suit jacket. It didn't look like Mycroft at all, but John liked it. Very much, to be exact. He doubted that anyone else saw him like this before. When Mycroft asked what's wrong, John had wrapped his arms around his shoulders and kissed him.

"No, normally I don't like people seeing me like this." Mycroft explained after John voiced his thoughts.

"What's different now?" John asked curiously.

"With you, I don't mind at all." Mycroft smiled, saying those words.

While cooking, they talked about random things. Mycroft knew exactly what to do, which surprised John. He didn't thought that Mycroft could cook, or that he even liked it. When he told him this, Mycroft had chuckled. "Even I have to eat, John. And ordering food all the time doesn't fit with my diet. So I taught myself how to cook. And yes, I like doing it, at least sometimes. It can be surprisingly relaxing. Or bothering, depending on the situation."

John laughed as well. "Sherlock would have never taken a pan or a spoon in his hand. He'd rather starve than to cook himself."

"Yes, my brother was special concerning normal things." Mycroft replied slowly, grimacing. "he thought that something like this was unessential and a waste of time."

"I noticed." John said dryly. "After all, I've always done the shopping and when someone in this flat cooked, it was me."

"This doesn't surprise me at all."

When dinner was ready, something else came to John's mind. "Christmas will be in three weeks." He said slowly, waiting for Mycroft's reaction. He knew that he usually spent Christmas alone. John had already invited Greg and Molly, and of course Mrs. Hudson would come upstairs. Maybe Mycroft wanted to come as well?

"You want to know if I'll join you for your Christmas party." Mycroft said simply, raising his eyebrows. "Do you think the others would be alright with that?"

John chuckled. Of course Mycroft already knew what he wanted to ask. "Do you want to come?" He asked back.

"Replying with another question is not polite, John." Mycroft scolded him softly and smiled. "You want me to come. Normally, I spent Christmas alone. And Sherlock used to do that too, before he met you." He was silent for a few moments. "I'd like to come."

John smiled widely. "The others will be fine with that. You already saw Mrs. Hudson's reaction. Greg said he's happy for us too, and I bet that Molly won't mind you being there."

"Then I will come." Mycroft said with a smile. "And honestly, I don't know if I could have stayed away from you for that long. I got used to seeing you every day very fast."

John grinned. "So I'm irresistible?"

Mycroft nodded seriously. "For me, you are."

"I can live with that. And besides, Christmas without having you around would be really boring. It could be a long day." John said slowly. He didn't pay much thought to Christmas until now. Only then he realized that something else would be different this year. Not only Mycroft would be new, someone else would be missing as well. John felt the smile vanishing from his lips, and he could feel Mycroft's worried gaze on him.

"John, are you alright?" He heard Mycroft's voice, but he didn't reply. His thoughts wandered to Sherlock and their last Christmas together. It had been nice, mostly.

Suddenly, he felt someone squeezing his hand. Mycroft had reached out for him over the table. "John, look at me." He said softly and finally, John obeyed. The concern in Mycroft's eyes was obvious and John sighed.

"I'm sorry, I've just been thinking of Christmas. And how different it'll be this year." He explained.

"Sherlock enjoyed Christmas with you very much." Mycroft explained softly. "He said he'd kill me if I ever mention this to you, but under these circumstances, I'm sure that I can tell you."

John's lips twitched. "Thank you. So you'll come?"

"Of course, I'll come. You don't even have to ask, John." Mycroft whispered. "We'll get through this together. You don't have to worry. I'll be there the whole time."

Now he could smile at Mycroft. He leaned forward and kissed him quickly. They didn't talk about Christmas again the entire evening.

* * *

Christmas came sooner than John expected. The three weeks passed quickly, especially with Mycroft. He invited John for dinner a few times, the restaurants were always nice and they never visited the same place twice.

Once, Mycroft came from work earlier. Greg was at 221 B, visiting John and they were just talking about Greg's recent cases. To their surprise, Mycroft just joined them and asked many questions. In the end, he was able to solve one of Greg's cases just by listening to Greg's explanations. He'd been impressed, but not too much. After all, he knew this already from Sherlock. "They're brothers. And from what you've told me, I already knew that Mycroft's very intelligent." Greg had explained simply, when John asked him about it later.

John was happy that they got along so well. And Mrs. Hudson also liked Mycroft, even if she complained about his sense of fashion a few times. She said he was dressing too formal, even when he wasn't at work.

What Mrs. Hudson didn't know was that Mycroft always took off his suit jacket and the vest when he was alone with John. John really liked it and he told Mycroft so many times. Maybe this was the reason why he did it, or it was just more comfortable. Secretly, John thought that it had something to do with the first time he'd taken those things off, back when they were cooking. Maybe he'd noticed the approval in John's eyes and that he liked this look on him very much?

John and Mycroft had decided not to get each other a present for Christmas. Mycroft thought that it was stupid and somehow, John agreed with him. After all, Mycroft had given himself to John. And that was everything he wanted. Mycroft agreed when he told him this. "You're the only thing I need, John. You don't have to get me a present." After that, he'd kissed him again passionately.

Mycroft liked to cuddle very much. They spent long evenings on the couch, wrapped in each other's arms. The feeling was nice, John liked being in Mycroft's arms. Slowly, they also started to do more than just hugging and kissing. John didn't make a move, he left that to Mycroft, not sure how far he could push the other man. However, his worries were unjustified. Once they started to kiss each other, they both couldn't hold back anymore. Touching Mycroft was exhilarating and John couldn't get enough of it. And the feeling of Mycroft's hands on his bare skin send shivers down John's spine. However, they always left their clothes on. And it was enough for John, at least for now. He was happy with Mycroft.

They spent Christmas Eve at 221 B together with Mrs. Hudson, Greg and Molly. It was nice, just a small party with a familiar atmosphere. Molly was still sad because of Sherlock's death, but they managed to cheer her up. Of course she also remembered the previous year, where Sherlock had still been there. John knew that she'd been in love with him, even if Sherlock never noticed it. Or he never cared, to be more exact. But John didn't want to pity her, Molly was a strong person.

Molly and Mycroft got along well, he could be very charming when he wanted to. And soon, they were all talking about the latest news, horrible Christmas parties and the decoration at his flat. John had decorated the house together with Mrs. Hudson while listening to very loud Christmas music. It had been fun, she'd told him stories about her husband, back when they had their first Christmas together. After that, she'd forced John to bake cookies with her.

Right now, they were also listening to Christmas carols. Mrs. Hudson had chosen them and secretly, they all agreed that they were horrible. John's favourite of the CD was Last Christmas, which was a surprise. Normally, he hated that song. That it was the best one said a lot. When he mentioned this to Mycroft, he laughed loudly, earning surprised looks from the others. Normally, he was always so calm and controlled.

However, he was more relaxed lately, not only around John, but also when his friends were there. He said he felt comfortable then, something he rarely did. Before he'd met John, he only felt comfortable at home. John couldn't imagine what Mycroft's house looked like, but he'd promised to invite John after Christmas.

This evening, Mycroft was wearing a dark grey suit with a red tie. The tie had the same colour as John's shirt. Mrs. Hudson had noticed it immediately and didn't get tired of mentioning that to everyone. When Mycroft arrived, John had been surprised by his choice of clothes. However, Mycroft wouldn't tell him how he knew that John would wear this exact shirt. And when he'd kissed him then, John didn't care anymore. He'd stopped asking Mycroft about how he just knew things months ago. It was one of the things that were thrilling about Mycroft Holmes, that John never knew what to expect. He loved him for that.

They were sitting on the couch together, while Greg and Molly were playing chess, when this thought came to John's mind. He was in love with Mycroft Holmes. When did this happen? He thought about it for a few minutes, before he realized that it didn't happen all at once. In those past months, he'd slowly fallen in love with him. This incredible, smart and beautiful man next to him. Who was sitting on the couch next to him, holding his hand, and who'd of course noticed that something was wrong. Or terribly right, but of course Mycroft didn't know that yet.

He just raised his eyebrows at John slowly, a questioning look on his face. The others were preoccupied with their chess game and Mrs. Hudson commented it, so they didn't notice that they'd turned away from them. _What's wrong? _Mycroft's expression said.

John smiled at him softly. But what should he say now? He wasn't so sure about that. He couldn't just tell Mycroft that he loved him, right now, on Christmas Eve and when the others were around. Or could he?

Mycroft seemed to see his struggle since his expression turned to worried. "You're looking at me like you can't decide if you want to say something or not." He muttered, so that only John could hear him. Suddenly, Mycroft looked uncomfortable. John doubted that any of the others could see it, Mycroft's face was mostly calm. But he could see the storm in his eyes.

"Everything's fine." He said slowly and kissed him quickly on the lips. "I just realized something."

Mycroft raised his eyebrows. "Do you want to share your knowledge with me?" He asked slowly.

John squeezed his hands. "Don't look at me like that, it's nothing bad." He had to grin at those words and finally, Mycroft relaxed again. "It's very good, to be exact."

Mycroft just wanted to say something, when John leaned in. "I love you." He whispered into his ear. The next thing he knew was that Mycroft wrapped his arms around him tightly and kissed him. When he pulled back, his eyes were shining.

"I love you too, John Watson." Those words made John's heart beat faster. They stared at each other silently for a few moments, both processing the new information. And then John kissed Mycroft again.

"Hey lovebirds, look at me!" Mrs. Hudson's voice interrupted them and when they both turned to her, the flash of a camera blinded them. "Come on, smiling! You can do that, I just saw it. And turn to the camera!"

John and Mycroft exchanged a look, before they both chuckled. The next hour, they all made photos. One of them would stand above the fireplace later. It showed John and Mycroft, standing in front of the Christmas tree together. Mycroft had wrapped his arm around John's shoulders, while his own rested on Mycroft's waist. They were both smiling widely.


	10. Chapter 10

**The next chapter! I hope you like it and please let me know what you think! And thank you so much for the review, it makes me happy to know that you like it! This time, I listened to 'How Will I Know' by Sam Smith while writing this.  
**

**I don't own the characters or places!**

* * *

A few days after Christmas, a black car was waiting for John in front of 221 B Baker Street. Mycroft had invited him over to his house for dinner. John was really excited, he hadn't been able to sit still the entire day. He really wanted to know what Mycroft's house looked like. And he didn't see him for some time now, so he was also happy to be able to see him again.

He didn't talk with Mycroft for two days, he was busy with work. There had been an attack on one of the big banks in the city and they suspected that it had a political reason. The message came three days ago, Mycroft had spent the evening at John's place, as usual. About half an hour after he arrived, he'd gotten a call and had to leave again. After that, John didn't see him again. And Mycroft just called once the previous day, asking if John wanted to come over for dinner. Of course, John had accepted immediately.

When he got in the car, he didn't find Mycroft waiting for him. Instead, Anthea was sitting on the backseat, typing on her phone. John felt a little uneasy, sitting next to her. He'd seen her many times in the past months, but they'd never been alone. Mycroft had always been with them.

"Good evening, Dr. Watson." She said without looking up. "Mr. Holmes will be waiting for you at his house, an incident at work prevented him from coming here to get you. He sent me instead."

John cleared his throat and smiled at her. "Alright. It's good to see you." She didn't reply and John looked out of the window while the car drove through London. Traffic was horrible as usual, and John feared that this would be a very long car drive. He had the feeling that Anthea was watching him, but he didn't turn around. He wasn't sure why he felt uncomfortable now, but the feeling just wouldn't vanish.

"Mr. Holmes likes you very much." Anthea said suddenly, ripping John out of his thoughts. Slowly, he turned around to look at her questioningly. She was looking at him through narrowed eyes, a cold smile on her lips. "It is very rare that he lets people get close to him. You seem to be a special person, John. The only other person he ever cared for was his brother."

John wasn't sure what she wanted to hear now, so he said the only thing that came to his mind in that moment. "He's very important to me."

"I hope you mean that." Suddenly, the friendly tone was gone. "If I ever get the feeling that you're just using Mr. Holmes, or that you are hurting him, I will come over for a visit."

_Hurt or use him and I'll kill you._ The message was clear. John swallowed, trying to process her words. "I could never hurt him." He replied, surprised at how steady his voice sounded.

She looked at him for a few moments, a calm expression on her face, before she nodded. "I see that you mean it." She said simply and then she began to type on her phone again, as if nothing happened at all.

A few minutes later, they arrived at Mycroft's house. When John got out of the car, Anthea was smiling at him again. Without saying goodbye, he headed for the house in front of him. Mycroft was already standing in the door, waiting for him.

John heard the sound of the car leaving, but he concentrated on Mycroft's face. He hoped that Mycroft wouldn't see that this conversation stressed him, but John already knew that it was an unnecessary hope. Mycroft knew him too well.

And it was true, when he got closer, the smile in Mycroft's lips vanished and a frown appeared on his face. "John, are you alright?" He asked immediately, but John decided to ignore his question. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Mycroft and kissed him. After a few seconds of hesitation, Mycroft kissed him back. When they parted, he took his hand. "Don't think that I'll just forget my question now." Mycroft said teasingly, probably to cheer him up. However, that wasn't necessary anymore. Now that Mycroft was there, John could relax again and he just wanted to forget the short conversation with his assistant.

"I've missed you. Could you solve your problem at work?" John asked when he took off his jacket.

Mycroft nodded. "Everything is in order again. We were able to catch the persons who planned the attack. It will be in the papers tomorrow."

John looked at Mycroft and smiled. He was still wearing his suit, so John suspected that he wasn't at home for a long time. Since something kept him busy, he might have also just returned. Then he looked around in Mycroft's house. It was big, probably even too big for someone who lived there alone.

John was aware of the fact that Mycroft watched him closely, his eyes slightly narrowed. He did that every time when he wanted to judge John's reaction. "You didn't tell me that your house is this big." John muttered. It was furnished in an old-fashioned way, except for the kitchen and the living room. John liked it. And it suited Mycroft. When he voiced his thoughts, the other man chuckled.

"It is good to know that you like my sense of fashion." He muttered before he took John's hand and showed him around. In the end, they stopped in the living room. John noticed that the windows on the ground floor were barred from the outside.

He raised his eyebrows at Mycroft. "Sherlock?"

Mycroft nodded and rolled his eyes. "He liked to break into my house very much."

"He mentioned it a few times." John said, smiling slightly. First, he'd been shocked at Sherlock's confession. But soon, he understood that Sherlock just did things like that and it wasn't of any use to lecture him about it. "I bet those weren't of any use?" He pointed at the windows.

Mycroft sighed. "He used the windows on the top floor then."

John couldn't help it. He started to laugh. "I'm sorry." He said. "This just sounds so much like Sherlock…" He didn't continue, hoping that Mycroft would understand what he wanted to say. And he did since he joined John's laughter.

"My brother was a special person." At the words special person, John stopped laughing. He remembered his conversation with Anthea again. Hoping that Mycroft didn't notice his change of mood, he decided to choose another subject.

"So we'll be cooking this evening?" However, Mycroft didn't take the bait.

"You still have to tell me what's wrong." He said slowly and sat down on the couch. Crossing his arms, Mycroft made it clear that he wouldn't move before they had settled this.

With a sigh, John sat down next to him. "It's nothing."

"You had a conversation with Anthea, in the car." Mycroft deduced simply. "And she said something that upset you."

"We were just talking nicely to each other." John tried again and let it sound as if it wasn't a big deal.

"You didn't. Otherwise, you wouldn't be like this. You would just tell me what it was about."

He sighed. "Let's just say that she's worried for your wellbeing. Nothing else."

Mycroft raised his eyebrows. "She threatened you?" His voice was cold now and John really wished that he was a better actor.

"No." Mycroft's eyes narrowed. "Alright, yes. She did. But since I don't plan to hurt you, or leave you, and since I don't just use you, it's not important."

"Well, to me it is." Mycroft argued. "I cannot tolerate her talking to you like this."

"Mycroft, she was just worried. She cares for you and I understand it. It's fine, really." Don't mention this to her, his words said. Mycroft got the message. He looked at John inconclusively.

"You are really alright?" He asked a little insecure.

Instead of answering that question, John kissed Mycroft passionately. In the end, they were both breathing heavily. "Probably we should cook." Mycroft muttered, but John just kissed him again. "Screw that." He began to unbutton Mycroft's shirt and when the other man just groaned, he grinned.

"Or shall we stop?" He whispered and kissed Mycroft's throat. His eyes were closed and the cheeks flushed. He was still wearing his suit jacket, the vest and his shirt, but they were all open now. John had never seen him like this before, it was exhilarating.

"Don't you dare." Mycroft whispered and shoved his hands under John's pullover.

Soon, they were both shirtless. John already wanted to kiss Mycroft again, but the other man held him back. "Wait a sec, let me look at you." And he did, with wide, dark eyes. To John, it seemed as if Mycroft wanted to memorize everything in at once. He felt himself blush, never before someone just wanted to look at him. He used this moment to look at Mycroft as well. When their eyes met again, they were both smiling.

Then Mycroft wrapped his arms around John and pulled him onto his lap. John made a surprised noise, not expecting Mycroft to do something like this. Now they could both feel how aroused the other was. Mycroft's hands were on John's back, wandering down slowly. "Maybe we should take this to the bedroom?" Mycroft asked innocently. John's laugh was breathless when he stood up, pulled Mycroft to his feet and took his hand.

* * *

Hours later, they were lying in Mycroft's bed, arms wrapped around each other. "Will you stay the night?" Mycroft asked, his face buried in John's neck. "We both don't have to work tomorrow."

John smiled. "I'd love to stay." He whispered and ran a hand down Mycroft's back. He felt him shiver. "And I love you."

"I love you too." Mycroft muttered.

"You let it sound like it still surprises you." John remarked. "That I love you."

Mycroft leaned back and John saw that he was smiling. "I never thought that I would ever have something like this, John. That I'd find you."

"Neither did I. Not after all this chaos in my life." John admitted. "And don't ask, you know exactly what I mean."

Mycroft chuckled. "I have a few ideas."

John kissed him again, ending their conversation. He rolled them over so that he was on top of Mycroft. He looked into his beautiful blue eyes and knew that he would never stop loving this man.

* * *

The new year came sooner than expected. They spent the evening with their friends, just like Christmas. Only Molly wasn't there. It was nice, this time, John and Mycroft were playing chess. Even if it wasn't easy to play against Mycroft, he always seemed to know what John would do next.

After that, their life followed a new pattern. They would both work very much, especially Mycroft, and they spent every free minute together. Not just at John's flat, he also visited Mycroft very often. When they had their free days, they spent the night together. And sometimes, they even stayed together when they had to work the next day.

John helped Greg with cases very often, it gave him something to do when Mycroft was busy on weekends. Or when he was on a trip again. Helping Greg with cases was also fun, it reminded him of his time with Sherlock. Even if it was much calmer with Greg. And less dangerous, which Mycroft was glad about.

Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months very fast. John really didn't know why time passed this quickly, but he didn't mind it. His relationship with Mycroft was great, ever since Christmas, they were very close.

After his interview with Kelly, no more reporters bothered John. However, he suspected that Mycroft had his hands in this. After all, he'd announced he'd make sure that no one would bother John again. The interview had been a full success. Suddenly, everyone believed John's version of things and those who'd written the stories about the 'Lying detective' were called liars. More and more people were reading John's blog, even if there weren't new stories anymore.

Next to Greg, John also found new friends at work. There was another doctor, his name was Phil. He was very nice, when John went out for a run, he accompanied him sometimes. And Phil's wife, Rebecca, was also working with them now. She was pregnant, it would be their second child. They liked stories about his and Sherlock's cases very much, later John found out that they'd been reading his blog regularly.

And there was a woman he'd met on a Friday when he was out with Greg, her name was Mary. Greg said that she was interested in John, but he didn't notice it. Probably, because he didn't look at people in that way anymore since he was with Mycroft. She tried to flirt with him a few times, but in the end, he told her that he had a boyfriend. She'd looked frustrated, but John thought that he just imagined that. Nevertheless, she was nice, even if there was something strange about her. They met her for a few weeks, but one Friday, she seemed stressed. And then she just vanished, they never saw her again. When they asked the owner of the pub, he just shrugged, saying that she probably left London. Apparently, she'd mentioned something like this. They didn't even know her last name and John forgot about her fast.

Because soon after her disappearance, a very dark day came.

The day of Sherlock's death. His best friend was gone for one year.


	11. Chapter 11

**Next chapter! I hope you like it and please let me know what you think, that would be great. **

**I don't own the characters or places!**

* * *

"One year…" John muttered and looked at the tombstone in front of him. He didn't visit the graveyard very often. Mostly, he associated it with bad memories. Like all the times he visited after Sherlock's death and pleaded his friend to be not dead. However, his wish had never come true.

He rarely came here in the past months, and when he did, he came alone. He didn't want Mycroft to be there with him, didn't want Mycroft to see the pain it still caused him. Of course it was bearable now and he thought about Sherlock with a smile most of the time, but he still had bad days.

Like today. Because today was _that_ day. One year since he'd seen his best friend die. One year since Sherlock had jumped.

John swallowed and closed his eyes for a few moments. He still remembered his last days with Sherlock when everything had been difficult because of Moriarty. Right now, he would love to take those problems back, if he could get Sherlock back as well. But that would never happen.

"You missed so much already." John muttered and sighed. He ran a hand through his hair. "I already told you that I'm with Mycroft now. And I really love him. It's incredible that he loves me as well. I know, you would just roll your eyes at this because love it a chemical defect. I never thought so. And your brother doesn't believe this as well."

He smiled sadly. "I'm going on cases with Greg sometimes. It's fun, but not the same. He's calmer than you, and we never get in dangerous situations. Secretly, he's not allowed to let me help. But he said that I've been working with a consulting detective for so long, it makes me one myself. And that's why it's alright." He chuckled. "He told me once that he appreciates my help. At least one person who thinks so."

He paused again. "I've met Molly a few days ago. She's got a boyfriend now. They make a great couple, even though she didn't look completely happy. She always liked you, but you never cared. The man looks like you, at least a little bit. With much imagination. She didn't even tell me his name."

What else could he say? "Mrs. Hudson misses you too. I know that she comes here sometimes. A few days ago, we looked at old photographs. She even had a few that showed the two of us. She told me a story to every photo." He smiled at the memory. "And she told me about her first impression on us. It was fun, she really thought we were a couple. Even though I didn't even know I liked men back then… I'm still not sure if you would laugh at me, if you knew that I'm with your brother now." He ran a hand through his hair again. "He wants me to meet your parents. I said that it'd be great. I'm not sure what I agreed to back then." He shrugged. "But I'm sure it'll be fine."

He looked at the gravestone in silence for a few minutes. Or was it longer? He couldn't tell.

John knew that he had to leave, after all Mycroft was coming to 221 B after work. But somehow, he couldn't let go. Not yet. Too many thoughts were on his mind right now. All the times he laughed with Sherlock. All those crazy hunts through London. The nights they stayed awake to solve a case. The days when John was angry at Sherlock because he did something stupid again, like taking drugs or not sleeping (or both). The first time they met Moriarty, who John still hated for everything he'd done.

In the end, he always arrived at the same memory. _It's Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221 B Baker Street._ The day where everything began. His new life, his _real_ life. Because nothing could be compared to the time after he'd met Sherlock for the first time. Back then, the life he enjoyed had started, even if it was difficult sometimes. But was there anything that was easy in life? Probably not.

Without Sherlock, he wouldn't know most of his friends. Mrs. Hudson, Greg, Molly. He would have never met Mycroft. A year ago, he thought that his life had ended with the death of Sherlock Holmes. But now John knew that it wasn't true. His life had changed, that was true. It had been a painful time after Sherlock's death, but life always goes on. And Mycroft had pulled him out of the darkness.

Mycroft Holmes, the love of his life.

Who was probably already waiting for him, not knowing where he was. Well, the last part was wrong. Mycroft _always_ knew where John was. And mostly also what he was doing. First, it had made John nervous, but he got used to it quickly. He didn't mind Mycroft watching over him anymore.

Except when he wanted to do something for Mycroft, like getting a present. Then it was difficult to escape all the cameras. However, John had the best teacher.

With one last look at the tombstone, he turned around and left the graveyard.

Of course the black car was waiting for him. Mycroft was leaning on it, hands in his pockets. He had a calm expression on his face and smiled when he saw John. John didn't miss the worry in his eyes.

John laughed at himself. He should have known that Mycroft wouldn't let him come here alone, not on a day like this.

He smiled at Mycroft. "You didn't have to come here." He said and stopped in front of him.

Mycroft raised his eyebrows, obviously surprised by John's behaviour. He didn't trust his calmness as well, he'd expected himself to break down. "The thought that you might come here alone today distracted me." Mycroft muttered and closed the distance between them.

John wrapped his arms around Mycroft's waist and kissed him. It was just a short kiss, but that didn't matter. The only important thing was that Mycroft was there now. John didn't want to be alone anymore. Nevertheless, he didn't regret visiting the grave alone. He had to do this, it felt right.

"I'm fine." John whispered.

Mycroft didn't look convinced. _Do you?_ his expression said.

"Let's go home." John said instead of answering that unspoken question.

They spent most of the drive to 221 B in silence. In the house, Mycroft wanted to go upstairs immediately, but John stopped him on the foot of the stairs. "Mrs. Hudson." He said simply and Mycroft understood immediately what he wanted to say. They needed to make sure if she was alright.

They found her in the kitchen, looking at photographs. Next to her stood an untouched and cold cup of tea. In her hand she was holding a handkerchief. To John's relief she wasn't crying. She just looked sad, lost in old memories.

When she heard them, Mrs. Hudson looked up. "Oh John, it's good to see you. And Mycroft." She smiled widely, though it didn't reach her eyes.

"How are you, Mrs. Hudson?" John asked and smiled at her. When he saw what was on the photos, he swallowed. It were pictures of Sherlock and him. Some of them she'd taken herself, others were from papers. Mycroft took John's hand and squeezed it.

"I'm fine." Mrs. Hudson said, repeating John's words from before. "I've just been thinking about Sherlock. Today's the day…"

John nodded. "It is." He replied hoarsely.

Suddenly, Mrs. Hudson seemed to realize what she just said. And to whom she said it. "Oh my god, John! I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. Today must be difficult enough for you, even when you don't have to see this." She began to collect the photos on the table, but John stopped her.

"It's alright, really." He felt Mycroft's eyes on his back. "You don't have to put them away."

She shook her head. "I've looked at them long enough. There are still so many things I've got to do today, I can't waste any more time." Her hands were shaking slightly, and without thinking about it, John hugged her tightly.

When they let go again, Mrs. Hudson cleared her throat. "Thank you." She whispered, before she turned away again. "And now go upstairs. I don't want to distract you two any longer."

John wanted to open his mouth to reply, but she just glared at him.

With one last smile, John turned around and followed Mycroft upstairs.

"You're waiting for me to break down." John stated when they were sitting on the couch together.

Mycroft sighed. "Does this surprise you?" He asked simply.

John shook his head. "Not really. I expected it myself." He admitted. "That I might lose it today. But I just feel… I don't know. Sad."

Mycroft wrapped his arms around him. "I love you."

"I love you too." John whispered and kissed him. Then he looked at Mycroft for a few moments silently.

"What are you thinking?" Mycroft asked after some time.

"I never thought that so much can change in one year." John explained. "Or a few years, if you go on from the moment I first met Sherlock."

Mycroft nodded. "He liked you, right from the first time you met. He talked about you very much."

"And that's why you had to kidnap me?" John asked lightly, and Mycroft nodded.

"I wanted to see who the man was my brother always mentioned."

"You didn't like me." John muttered, remembering that day very well. One of the weirdest days in his life.

"You surprised me." Mycroft corrected him. "You didn't react like I've expected."

John chuckled. "That never happens to you."

Mycroft shook his head and smiled. "That's what made you so interesting."

"I've been interesting?" John asked and smiled slightly.

"You _are_ interesting. Present, John. And you'll always be." Mycroft corrected him immediately.

John grinned. "Sherlock would have said we're being stupid, right?"

Mycroft smiled as well. "He would have said that right from the beginning. You know he always said that sentiment –"

"Is a chemical defect." John finished his sentence and nodded. "He mentioned that." He was silent for a few moments. "He would have rolled his eyes every time he saw us together."

"Probably." Mycroft nodded. "And he would have made vulgar comments."

John chuckled. "Sounds like him." He muttered.

They sat there in silence for some time, until Mycroft suggested to order something to eat. They both weren't in the mood for cooking. To John's surprise, Mycroft wanted to stay the night. John was glad about it, he didn't want to be alone. He still feared that he might break down once Mycroft left. Even if everything seemed bearable at the moment.

* * *

The breakdown came at night.

First, Johns dream was normal, he was somewhere with Mycroft. Probably a park, the one where they first kissed? They were laughing and having fun.

But then the scene shifted. John wasn't in the park any longer. He was at 221 B Baker Street, but it looked different from now. It was messy, there were clothes lying around and a strange machinery was standing on the kitchen table. On the mantelpiece, a knife was sticking in the wood. Under it was an envelope.

John recognized everything immediately. He turned around, trying to locate Sherlock. And there he was, sitting in his usual armchair, his phone in his hands. He was typing furiously and muttered something to himself, words John couldn't understand.

John wanted to go to him, hug him tightly and tell Sherlock that he missed him, but the sound of breaking glass interrupted him. It was one of the windows. Sherlock jumped to his feet and turned to the window, a dark look on his face. The sharp grin on his lips was a sharp contrast to this.

"Finally, you're here! You're late, I've been waiting for you." He took a step towards the man who'd just climbed in. John needed a few moments to recognize him.

Jim Moriarty was smiling at Sherlock, like he always did. He was wearing a suit, and there was a gun in his hand. "Missed me?" He asked cheerily.

"You already know the answer to that." Sherlock shot back immediately.

Moriarty raised his eyebrows. "Do I?" He asked curiously.

"It's no, if you're wondering." Sherlock muttered and took another step towards Moriarty, but he raised the gun.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you." Moriarty looked around. "Where's your flatmate? Not here to save you?" When Sherlock didn't answer, Moriarty laughed. "So it's really just you and me."

"It has to be like this." Sherlock said slowly. "You don't want John, just me. Leave him alone, this is between the two of us."

Moriarty's grin grew even wider. "You care for him! Sherlock Holmes, the detective with the soft heart!"

"Leave John Watson alone." Sherlock repeated, his voice dangerously low.

"And what if I won't do it? I could just wait for him here, after I've killed you." Moriarty was saying this in a mocking tone, and Sherlock took another step towards him.

Only then John noticed the knife in Sherlock's hand, which had been on the mantelpiece before.

John wanted to call out a warning for Sherlock, but no sound would escape his mouth. Sherlock took another step towards Moriarty, but he'd already pulled the trigger.

Sherlock broke down right in front of John, a bullet wound on his chest. And there was blood, everywhere was blood…

"John?" The voice was quiet and John could barely hear it, suddenly Moriarty was gone and John knelt down next to Sherlock. He tried to stop the bleeding, but he already knew that it was too late. There was so much blood, and Moriarty had aimed at Sherlock's heart…

"John! You have to wake up, love. It's just a dream!" He knew that voice. _Mycroft_. But Sherlock, he was dead. Again. He'd lost his best friend again.

"John?!"

John woke up with a gasp. It was dark around him and his cheeks were wet with tears. He was lying in bed, and he wasn't alone.

"John, are you alright?" Mycroft asked again, concern evident in his voice.

John blinked a few times before his eyes got used to the darkness in the bedroom. Mycroft touched his cheek carefully.

"Mycroft?" John couldn't say anything else, he just hid his face on Mycroft's chest. And then he cried. He cried like he didn't do it in months. Normally, Mycroft's mere presence prevented bad dreams like this. But not tonight. Not one year after Sherlock jumped.

"It's alright, John. You're fine." Mycroft whispered and ran a hand up and down John's back slowly. He kept whispering calming words and after what felt like hours, John finally stopped crying.

When he looked up at Mycroft again, he saw a sad look on his face. "I love you." John muttered and Mycroft's lips twitched.

"I love you too. Very much." Mycroft repeated and hugged him tightly.

They stayed like this, in each other's arms, until the sun began to rise above the city.


	12. Chapter 12

**Next chapter! I hope you like it, please let me know what you think! And thank you for the review, it makes me happy to know that someone likes my story. **

**I don't own the characters or places! **

* * *

"And you're sure about this?" Greg asked, looking down at the ground.

John nodded, even if Greg didn't see it, and turned around when the sound of a car cut through the silence. They were standing in the garden of a small house, just outside of London. Actually, Greg and John wanted to meet for lunch in a small restaurant close to NSY, but then Greg had been called in for a case. When he'd asked John if he wanted to join him, John had agreed immediately.

The doors of the car slammed shut and soon after, two more police officers came into the garden. "John?" Greg asked and took him back to reality. John realized that he looked at him questioningly now.

"Sorry." John muttered and cleared his throat. "And yes, I'm sure." At those words, he smiled softly.

Greg grinned when he knelt down next to the lifeless body on the ground. "I don't believe it. John Watson wants to marry."

John chuckled. "Why does this surprise you?" He also knelt down next to the man on the ground and looked at the wound on his head. He grimaced.

"Well, first everyone thought you were with Sherlock. Then it became clear that you were just best friends and you met many women. And after Sherlock's death…" Greg shrugged. "But John, really? Mycroft Holmes?"

"I love Mycroft." John replied simply.

"Don't get me wrong, I know that. And I'm really happy for you." Greg threw in quickly. "I just mean, do you really want to marry him? Mycroft doesn't seem to be the type who's into something like that. He doesn't even want many people to know about your relationship because of his job." Greg avoided John's gaze and gave a sign towards one of the police officers. He pointed at the house and they walked towards it slowly.

"You mean he's not into marriage?" John asked slowly, but he already knew that Greg didn't mean that. The answer was sentiment. No one ever thought that Mycroft Holmes would fall in love one day. Even John himself didn't expect it. The fact that Mycroft Holmes had opened up to him was probably the biggest surprise in his life.

Greg sighed, but before he could say anything else, he lifted the hand of the man carefully. There was a sign on it, and it definitely wasn't a tattoo. "What's this?" Greg muttered slowly and frowned.

John leaned forward to have a better look. He recognized that symbol from one of his nights out with Sherlock. "It's a club in London." He explained. "Not one you ever want to see." He added when he saw Greg's surprised expression. "I've been there with Sherlock, on a case. We needed information and somehow, Sherlock thought that this was the right place to get it."

"And did you find what you were looking for?" Greg asked curiously.

John nodded. "It wasn't nice, though. We might have left that club through one of the windows."

Greg stood up abruptly. "Alright, I don't want to hear more about this." He decided quickly. "Can you give us the address?"

John nodded. "It's only open at night, so you'll have to wait before you can go there. And unfortunately, I won't be able to accompany you."

Greg grinned after he wrote down the address. "Because you have a very important date."

John ran a hand through his hair. "Yes, and I might not be allowed to enter that building ever again." At the thought of that night, he grimaced.

Greg raised his eyebrows. "Maybe I want to hear that story someday, after all." He muttered now.

John chuckled. "It was quite spectacular."

"All your cases with Sherlock were." Greg muttered. "Did you write about that one on your blog?" The curiosity in his voice was obvious. Greg (and most others at NSY) had loved his blog.

"I wanted to, but Sherlock thought it was a terrible story. I wanted to call it 'The Case of St. Hells Night Club'." He smiled at the memory.

"Why didn't you publish it either way? Sherlock didn't like most of your stories." Greg remarked.

"Yes, but this case really wasn't something you could turn into a good story. To bloody. And brutal. And it might have involved lots of swearing."

"And what's new about that?" Greg asked while he looked at the ground once more.

John rolled his eyes. "Come on, there never was much swearing. Or blood."

"If you say so…" Greg muttered and dropped the subject.

They spent the rest of the day trying to find out what happened. A neighbour had called the police since she'd heard noises and then she'd seen the body through her bedroom window. The man was single, living alone and about fifty years old. He didn't have many friends and was working for a local paper, nothing many people read.

There were no signs of a break-in at his house and no one had a clue how the body came into the garden. Next to the wound on his head, there was nothing. He wasn't involved in a fight or anything like that. The only clue they had was the sign on his hand.

Sherlock would have loved this case.

John stayed with Greg and tried to find more clues in the house, but they didn't find anything until they left in the afternoon. Greg and his team wanted to check the club and a few personal papers they'd found at the house next. And John had offered to talk to Mycroft about this, which Greg gladly accepted. "But you don't have to do it this evening, after all it should be special." Greg had told him right before they'd dropped John at Baker Street.

John had just laughed at that. Mycroft always asked him about his day, so there was no way John could get through the evening without mentioning the case.

But maybe he would really make it short. After all, it really was an important evening.

Today, one year after he'd kissed Mycroft Holmes for the first time.

* * *

John met Mycroft at the park where they'd first kissed an hour later. Luckily, it wasn't a too cold day (unlike the previous year) and the sun was still shining. Now that the days got shorter, John had worried that his plan wouldn't work. After all, Mycroft used to work very long hours in the past weeks. It had something to do with a crisis in Asia, but Mycroft couldn't tell him more about it. After all, it was top secret.

However, John didn't mind that. As long as Mycroft didn't get himself in danger, John could live with a few secrets concerning Mycroft's job. He was used to it by now.

John tried to stay calm. Otherwise, Mycroft would notice that something was going on immediately. The small box in John's pocket felt heavy while they walked through the nearly empty park together.

As expected, Mycroft asked John about his day first. Of course he already knew that John had been on a case with Greg. When John told him about the man in the garden, Mycroft's eyes were shining with excitement. Something he had in common with his brother. They never could resist a riddle.

Mycroft had three ideas and insisted that John told Greg about them immediately. When John called Greg and informed him about Mycroft's speculations, John could hear the relief in Greg's voice. After all, they didn't have to look through all the files anymore. Greg promised to tell John about their findings the next day. They really would have to visit the club at night, one of Mycroft's ideas involved the place. John already pitied them for that experience.

After that, Mycroft told John about his day at work. Apparently, it hadn't been very exciting. There had been many meetings, of which Mycroft couldn't speak to John. He didn't mind that, but to John's surprise, Mycroft didn't look very happy about it this time.

"Sometimes, I would like to be able to share all parts of my life with you, John." Mycroft explained when John asked him about it. "Just like you can tell me everything."

John smiled at him. "I really don't mind that you can't tell me those things." He said slowly. "I understand that it's secret."

Mycroft sighed. "Nevertheless, my work prevents us from a normal relationship."

John raised his eyebrows. "Do you really think so?" He thought of all the time they've spent together in the past year. To John, it didn't feel like something in their relationship wasn't normal. Yes, Mycroft always had to work long and mostly also on weekends, but John didn't mind that. He knew that Mycroft lived for his work. "To me, everything seems perfectly fine."

When John smiled at Mycroft, he chuckled. "Alright, you may be right, John." He agreed reluctantly and kissed John on the cheek. "But I don't like having secrets from you." John noticed that Mycroft sounded surprised by his own words.

"It's fine, really." He repeated.

They walked in silence for some time, both lost in their own thoughts. When John noticed that they were getting closer to the lake, his heart began to beat faster. He glanced at Mycroft from the corner of his eyes and saw that the other man was looking at him thoughtfully.

"What are you thinking?" John asked curiously.

"I was trying to figure out why my work doesn't bother you." Mycroft said hesitantly, waiting for John's reaction.

John raised his eyebrows. "Why should it? It's part of you. I already knew that your work's the most important thing in your life. And I didn't expect that to change." He said it lightly, but Mycroft's face darkened at his words. Before John could really understand what was happening, Mycroft had stopped and placed his hands on John's shoulders. There was a serious look on his face now.

"John." Mycroft began and John could hear that his words had bothered him very much. "I want you to listen to me now carefully. All my life, I didn't want anything else than to work for the British Government. I wanted to make a change, to achieve something in my life. And I got all that, with lots of hard work. I wanted a job in which I wouldn't feel unchallenged. Because you know very well that it happens quickly, that a Holmes gets bored." At those words, Mycroft's lips twitched.

For half a second, John saw Sherlock in his mind, running around the flat and shooting at walls. Then he realized that he never saw Mycroft when he was bored. Or didn't he realize it? But he would have seen it, right? When his boyfriend didn't feel well in his company. Of course Mycroft already knew what John was thinking since he chuckled softly and placed a hand on John's cheek. "You don't have to worry, with you I'm always happy." He smiled softly, but just as quickly he turned serious again.

"Yes, my work is very important to me. And there was a time when I would have said that it's the most important part of my life. Maybe except for Sherlock and his safety." His lips twitched again and John's heart ached. He knew that Mycroft had loved his brother in his own way. "And then I met you." He looked at John with a meaningful expression on his face. "Now my work isn't the most important part anymore. I can't even tell when it changed, which means a lot. Normally, I don't lose control of my life like that. And this time, I even wanted it."

When Mycroft chuckled again, John couldn't hold himself back anymore. He wrapped his arms around his shoulders and kissed him. Mycroft made a surprised noise, but then he kissed John back eagerly. When they parted, his eyes were shining. "You turned my whole life around."

John grinned. "I hope in a good way."

"In a very good way." Mycroft agreed.

When they continued walking, John took Mycroft's hand and led him towards the lake slowly. If Mycroft noticed the sudden change of direction, he didn't say anything. He just kept walking and the smile on his lips made John's heart beat faster again.

When they stopped at the lake, John turned to look at Mycroft. "Can you believe that we haven't been here for a whole year?"

"Time has a way of passing very fast, especially when you enjoy something." Mycroft said thoughtfully. "It feels like we've been here just yesterday."

"And at the same time it feels like it's very far away." John muttered and looked at the water in front of them. One year since he'd first kissed Mycroft Holmes. A very short, joyful year. And less turbulent than the ones before. Which was still a little disturbing because something was clearly missing. Or someone, to be more exact.

John wished that Sherlock would still be there. Or maybe not today since he would have certainly tried to thwart John's plans. He would have never approved that John wanted to marry his brother.

Taking a deep breath, John turned to Mycroft again. He was also looking at the water, a calm look on his face. As if he noticed that John was looking at him, he bowed his head. "I assume that there is a reason to why you've taken me here?"

John cursed inwardly. Of course Mycroft had noticed that John was planning something. He could be lucky that Mycroft didn't already know what it was. Sometimes, Mycroft just decided to ignore certain things. Unlike his brother, he was polite and knew how to respect it when someone had secrets.

"Another reason than to celebrate our first anniversary together?" John asked and smiled widely.

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "That is nothing you should celebrate. After all, there will be an anniversary every year. It would get tiring to celebrate this day. Birthdays and Christmas are already exhausting enough."

In that moment, Mycroft resembled Sherlock so much that John couldn't stop his soft laugh. To his surprise, Mycroft's expression softened at that. "John, are you laughing at me?"

John shook his head. "Sometimes, you're really just like your brother." He muttered and Mycroft chuckled as well. John grabbed the front of Mycroft's jacked and pulled him closer.

"So you just assume that we'll always stay together?" He asked, Mycroft's words still sounding in his ears.

Mycroft raised his eyebrows. "I will never get tired of you, John." He said simply and when he opened his mouth to add something, John silenced him with a kiss.

"I like that." John whispered against Mycroft's lips. "And I love you."

When he took a step back, Mycroft frowned, clearly confused. But John just cleared his throat and smiled at Mycroft.

"Mycroft Holmes." He said his name slowly, enjoying the sound of it. "When we first met, I really didn't know what to think of you. The archenemy of my flatmate, which later turned out to be his older brother. A very protective brother, to be honest. And sometimes a scary one." At those words, Mycroft grinned, but he didn't say anything. "In the months that followed, I realized that you cared for Sherlock more than you wanted to admit. And that you were always there for him when he needed you. Then, one day, we suddenly had the opportunity to talk. Like really talk, and not just discuss one of Sherlock's cases. Back then, I realized that you weren't just the older brother of my best friend, but also a very nice and charming man. And a very interesting one as well."

John smiled at Mycroft again, before he continued. "You pulled me out of the darkness when my whole world was breaking down. In my weakest moments, you were with me. You helped me to get through the most desperate time of my life when I had nearly given up. And not just that, you showed me that there is light as well. That there's something worth living for. _You_ made my life worth living for. And I know that I've thanked you for that many times, but I'll do it again, just once more. Thank you. For being there for me. And for staying with me when everything got better."

Mycroft was smiling at him and his face was so open, John didn't think that he'd ever seen him this vulnerable before. He continued. "I fell for you slowly, and then all at once. It took me weeks to act on it, though. Because I was scared that you might not feel the same. But you did. We've been together for a year now and it was the best year of my life so far. I enjoy being with you very much" Mycroft smiled at the reference to the phrase they'd always used at the beginning "and I never want to be without you again. You're the light in my life, the reason for all my happiness. I love you, Mycroft."

Without further hesitation, John knelt down and pulled the box out of his pocket. "Will you marry me?"

For a few moments, John just knelt there and smiled at Mycroft, his heart beating rapidly. Mycroft looked at him silently, with the same vulnerable expression on his face he'd shown during John's speech. John was afraid of his reaction, already fearing that Mycroft might say no.

In the next moment, strong hands grabbed his shoulders and pulled him up again. Then Mycroft's lips were on his and all of John's worries vanished. "Yes." Mycroft whispered in between the kisses. "Of course I'll marry you, John. And I love you too."

John had never been happier than on this one day. When they finished their walk through the park, they went to 221 B and Mycroft spent the night with him. And every night that followed. They began to plan the wedding, which should take place in spring or maybe summer. When they told their friends about it, everyone was very happy for them. And to John's surprise, Mycroft even became friends with Greg.

Everything was fine in John's life.

Until, one night, _he_ showed up.


	13. Chapter 13

**Next chapter! And what a ride, I can't wait to hear your thoughts! Please let me know what you think! And thanks to everyone who writes reviews and/or follows this story! **

**I don't own the characters or places!**

* * *

The first time it happened, John was walking through London together with Mycroft. They had just chosen the rings for their wedding in two weeks, and now they were on their way back to the car. John was just telling Mycroft about another case with Greg when someone ran into him on the sidewalk.

John stumbled and if Mycroft wouldn't have caught his arm so quickly, John was sure that he would have fallen to the ground. He ignored Mycroft's worried gaze and turned around quickly, hoping to see the person who ran into him. However, everything seemed normal. There were a few people with their phones in their hands, a couple, and a mother with their children.

However, John could see a tall man in a long, dark jacket in the distance, walking away from them very fast. "John, are you alright?" Mycroft's voice took him back to reality and he glanced at his fiancé.

Mycroft's eyes were narrowed and John nodded slowly. "I'm fine." He muttered and when he tried to find the man in the distance again, he was gone.

"What are you looking at? We should get going, otherwise, we'll be late for dinner." Mycroft took John's hand and pulled him to the car quickly. Did he just imagine it, or was Mycroft sounding uneasy?

The rest of the evening, they talked about everything, except for the incident on the sidewalk.

* * *

The next time was about a week before the wedding.

John was on his way to a tailor together with Greg. They wanted to get their suits for the wedding they'd ordered some time ago. On their way, Greg was telling John about his latest girlfriend. Her name was Janine and from what John heard, she seemed to be very nice. Greg was just telling John how he met her when something caught John's attention.

Across the street, a tall man with a hat and a dark jacket was leaning on a wall. He was looking down, so John couldn't see his face. However, there was something strangely familiar about that figure. John just couldn't really grasp it.

Or maybe he could, and he just didn't want to admit it.

_Am I seeing ghosts now?_ he asked himself and ignored Greg's question if he was alright. In that moment, a bus stopped in front of a traffic light and blocked John's sight on the man. He walked back a short distance (still ignoring Greg's questions), but in that moment, the bus drove off again. John stopped immediately, taking in the scene in front of him.

The man was gone.

"What just happened?" Greg asked and raised his eyebrows curiously.

"Nothing." John lied. "I just thought I saw someone. Must have been wrong." He took a deep breath and smiled at Greg.

"So Janine will be your date next week." He laughed when he saw the sheepish look on John's face. "It's fine, Mycroft already said you had a girlfriend."

Greg rolled his eyes. "I don't want to know how he knew that." He muttered.

"It's a pity." John continued. "I already thought your date would be Mrs. Hudson."

Greg stared at him wide-eyed for a moment, until he realized that John just made a joke. Laughing, they continued their way to the tailor.

* * *

"And then, this crazy man just ran out of the building and right into the press. He ignored them, took the next cab and drove away!" The laughter all around John made him grin as well. It was the evening before his wedding with Mycroft, and Greg had insisted that they went out with some friends. So now they were all at their favourite bar.

In the past months, John had made friends at NSY. They were mostly on Greg's team and accompanied them on cases. Before, he never talked to them very much, but back then, he also didn't really notice them. All his attention had been focused on Sherlock.

"Did he solve the case?" John asked now and raised his eyebrows.

"Oh come on, you knew him better than we all did together!" Sam said loudly. He was just telling a story about Sherlock.

"So he did." John muttered and nodded. "I already expected that. It was the barkeeper, wasn't it?"

At his question, eight pairs of eyes were fixed on him. In most of them, he saw surprise. Only Greg was grinning.

"You knew that story?" Sam sounded slightly disappointed, but John shook his head.

"I didn't. But it was kind of obvious, wasn't it?"

Now they all exchanged glances again. "That's what he said too. Sherlock." He added at John's questioning look. Sam turned to Greg. "You said that they were alike in some ways, but this?" Greg started laughing at that comment, but John interrupted them.

"Wait, what? Alike? Sherlock and me?" He asked sceptically. "Why on earth would someone think that?"

Sam avoided looking at him and seemed to hide behind Greg, who was still grinning. "I didn't mean it like that, John. Don't be offended. But Sherlock taught you many things about deductions." When John was still looking at him sceptically, he sighed. "You're far better with people, I swear."

"Otherwise, we all wouldn't be here!" Someone else agreed and soon, they were all laughing again. Now it was John's turn to tell a story.

So he told the others about one of their cases, which hadn't been on his blog. They all loved his stories, especially the new ones. And John was good at telling them, he liked to make it exciting. He even let the others guess about the murderer.

Nevertheless, John couldn't get rid of the feeling that something was wrong. It had accompanied him for some time by now. Two weeks, to be exact. Ever since he first saw that man on the sidewalk. And again when he saw him with Greg. He knew that he was probably just acting stupid, or that the feeling were the nerves because of the wedding the next day.

But if it would be nothing, why would have Mycroft been acting weird those past weeks? Ever since the incident on the sidewalk. First, John thought that something form work was bothering Mycroft, but soon he realized that it was something else. Because he'd seen him with Anthea the other day, and he'd been acting completely normal. Until he saw John. Then he'd become nervous again. It was difficult to see, but John knew Mycroft very well and could interpret the signs.

Maybe Mycroft was having second thoughts? Perhaps he wasn't so sure about marrying John anymore, now that the day was near? But John knew that Mycroft would have talked to him, if that would have been the problem. He always talked to John when something was wrong.

In the past week, John had thought about it very much and he just couldn't find out what was wrong with Mycroft. Of course he'd asked him. But the only reaction he got was a laugh and a kiss. After that, Mycroft tried to act normal even harder. Or he just distracted John, so that he didn't even think about it anymore. Mycroft Holmes wasn't just a master of deductions, but also of distraction. Especially when John was concerned. And Mycroft always enjoyed their activities when he tried to distract John immensely.

"Was it the wife?" Greg's voice took John back to reality. He'd just finished half of his story and asked the others if they already had ideas.

"Nope." John grinned at him and tried to focus on the others again. He shouldn't worry, not now. And especially not about Mycroft. Who made it very clear how important John was to him.

"The neighbour?" A woman from Greg's team asked and again, John shook his head.

"So the daughter." Sam tried.

"You're all missing something important." John tried to help them, but again he got only wrong guesses. Until…

"Stupid idea. Who would even think of the neighbour? Or his own daughter? You're all making things very complicated. It was much easier than that. And from what John just said, you could already solve this case."

The voice wasn't talking very loudly, but they all froze in an instant. John knew that voice. He knew that voice very well, to be exact. For years, it had made him angry, or annoyed, or laugh. He still heard it in his dreams sometimes, after a long day at work, or when his thoughts drifted back into dangerous areas of the past. For two years, he would have given everything to hear Sherlock's voice. He was really going crazy, wasn't he? And also on his bachelor party when Mycroft wasn't even around. Mycroft, who always pulled John out of the darkness when it began to surround him again.

However, he saw the shock on the faces of his friends as well. Greg was pale and looked like he'd just seen a ghost. And the voice just continued as if nothing was wrong.

"If you would have listened to his story carefully, you would have noticed that the man was drunk the night his father died. Yes, John only said that he had a drink, but he couldn't handle alcohol very well. So he wasn't asleep when it happened, but awake. And in such a haze, that he couldn't remember his own actions anymore when he was asked the next morning. So he was the murderer of his own father. Child's play. But why would you even tell a story like this, John? It was boring and you didn't even write in on your blog. Because no one would have liked it."

Slowly, John turned his head to the right. He already expected to see nothing and wanted to laugh because he was hallucinating, but there he stood. Tall as ever, with dark brown locks, high cheekbones and a long, black coat. His green eyes were already fixed on John and slightly narrowed, as if he wanted to figure something out.

Right next to him stood Sherlock Holmes, his best friend.

Who died nearly two years ago.

For a few moments, everything around John seemed to turn. He tried to breathe in deeply and closed his eyes for a few moments. When he opened them again, Sherlock was still there. Right in front of him. He was skinnier than before, and there were dark circles under his eyes. His hair was a bit longer, but that was everything that changed about him. Or at least everything John saw in that moment.

A short glance told him that the others were all still staring at them wide-eyed. Only Greg was standing closer now, looking insecure. Apparently, he was just as shocked as John.

Slowly, he turned to Sherlock again and looked into his eyes. Sherlock was smiling now, but it didn't reach his eyes. It looked rather uncertain, which didn't fit him well. Normally, Sherlock Holmes was the most self-confident person John knew. With one exception.

"Surprise?" Sherlock asked quietly and it was more a question than anything else.

John looked at Sherlock silently for some time, and no one in their group moved. The other sounds in the bar had also faded, John barely registered them anymore, even if he'd thought that it was too loud before. He tried to remain calm. They weren't here alone, after all. However, the longer he looked at Sherlock, the angrier he got. And there was something else that mixed with the anger. John was disappointed. His best friend, the person who meant most to him, had been alive all this time. And he didn't bother to tell John about it. John had suffered for two years, just to find out that he'd been lied to! Only Mycroft –

Mycroft. Who's been acting strange those past weeks. Ever since John saw the man in the dark coat. Who didn't want to talk to John about it. Who told him not to worry because it was nothing.

Mycroft had known that Sherlock was alive. And most probably, he'd known all along. How else would Sherlock have been able to fake his death?

Suddenly, the realization hit him with full force. Mycroft had lied to him. All along.

John breathed in deeply, but the world around him began to turn either way. He closed his eyes, hoping that the feeling would vanish. Maybe this was all a bad dream and he would wake up soon, in his flat at Baker Street, arms wrapped around Mycroft. Then someone touched his arm carefully. John just wanted to tell that person to back off when he realized that it was Greg. His friend was looking at him calmly, but John could see the concern in his eyes. _Are you alright?_ the gesture said.

A short glance around told John that the others did their best to shield them from the other people at the bar. John was grateful for that and made a mental note to thank them later. Then his eyes landed on Sherlock again. He nodded at Greg shortly, who took a step back. When Greg glanced at Sherlock, John could see a mixture of shock and happiness in them. He knew that he'd missed Sherlock nearly as much as John did.

"You're alive." John faced Sherlock again and noticed that his friend was looking even more uneasy now. Apparently, this wasn't the reaction he'd hoped for.

"John, let me explain –" Sherlock began quietly, but John didn't listen to him anymore. He grabbed Sherlock's jacked and slammed him into the next wall. Luckily, they were seated in the corner closest to the entrance and no one noticed what was going on so far. But in this moment, John couldn't care less about what others thought. The anger was controlling him now, trying to win over the deep desperation that was boiling around its edges.

To his surprise, Sherlock made no attempt to defend himself. He was just staring at John wide-eyed, and John couldn't quite interpret the look on his face. He didn't think about it any longer. "You just show up here, after you've vanished for two years! And act like nothing happened at all!" John hissed and shook his head in disbelief. "I thought you were _dead_, Sherlock! Dead. Did you even think of this, before you faked it? What it would do to me?!" Before he could control himself, John hat hit Sherlock two times. First in the stomach, which made Sherlock go down to his knees, and then right in the face. No one tried to stop him.

John saw the blood on Sherlock's face and on his own hands, but he didn't care. He looked at the man in front of him, who was kneeling and wiping away the blood from his nose with his sleeve. Sherlock opened his mouth to say something, but John had already turned around and stormed out of the bar. He heard Greg and a few others calling his name, but he didn't stop. He ran into the night aimlessly, only wanting to get away from that place and his best friend.

He didn't get far before he heard a voice calling his name. _His _voice. Nevertheless, John didn't stop walking.

Until suddenly, someone grabbed his arm and forced him to turn around.

"John, let me at least explain everything!" Sherlock's eyes were wide and there was still blood on his face. He was breathing heavily from running and John wondered why, because normally, Sherlock had always been in top shape.

"Let me go!" He said loudly, not wanting to talk to him right now. Or probably ever.

"Not until you listen to me!" Sherlock exclaimed and his grip on John's arm tightened.

"What do you want to tell me?" John shouted. His sudden outburst seemed to take Sherlock by surprise since he let go of John's arm and took a step back. "That you're sorry? That it was necessary to make me believe you were dead?! That you had to do it?" John shook his head and covered his face with his hands before he looked at Sherlock again.

"You were gone for _two years_! Two fucking years, Sherlock! Didn't you even consider what this would do to me? How I would feel when you die?" John tried to stay calm, but he couldn't stop the first tears that were running down his cheeks.

"John…" Sherlock began hesitantly and took a step towards him. While doing that, he reached out with his arm as if he wanted to touch John. However, he stopped in the movement. This time, John could see the insecurity on his face clearly.

"Don't." John said simply and shook his head. "I need some space." Even if he was angry, he didn't want to hurt Sherlock again. His nose was probably broken.

He looked at Sherlock silently for a few moments when a thought in his head appeared. "Mycroft knew about it." It was a simple statement and John knew that Sherlock's reaction could destroy his whole world. Again. But he just needed to know. And he knew that he couldn't bring himself to ask Mycroft about it. At least not tonight.

Sherlock nodded silently and John's heart sank. He'd lied to him all this time. "And Molly." Sherlock whispered. "She –"

"I don't want to know how you did it!" John interrupted him immediately. "When I want to know something, it is _why_ you did it. Not how. Probably, I'll never want to know how!" He knew that it wasn't true, but that didn't matter right now.

"They were going to kill you." Sherlock began slowly and waited for John's reaction. When nothing came, he continued. "Moriarty had three snipers placed on different buildings. They were aiming on Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson and you. And they were all going to shoot if I left that rooftop alive. Since Moriarty couldn't stop them anymore, I didn't have a choice." Sherlock breathed in deeply. "I wouldn't let anything happen to you. To all of you. It had to be convincing."

"It was." John muttered without looking at Sherlock. He was staring at the space between them. "Why didn't you sent me a note? Anything? Two years, Sherlock." He noticed that his voice sounded hollow now.

"Moriarty's network." As always, Sherlock had an answer for everything. "I couldn't risk them going after you. It had to be destroyed first." When John looked up, he saw something he wouldn't have thought possible. For only half a second, he saw a sad expression on Sherlock's face. But as soon as he realized that John was looking at him, the calm mask was there again. With regret in his eyes, but that was the only emotion he showed in this moment.

John clenched and unclenched his fists. His right hand hurt from when he'd hit Sherlock. "Mycroft." He muttered. "He could have told me."

"I asked him not to." Sherlock interrupted him immediately. "I didn't want to risk your safety, John." He muttered darkly. "It wasn't easy to convince Mycroft that this was for your own good. Especially a few weeks after the rooftop, he started to get really annoying. Said that he had to tell you. He didn't say why, though."

John did. But he would never tell Sherlock about that day when he'd nearly lost control. The day he'd been sitting on the ground, bleeding, and waiting for Mycroft. The day everything changed between them.

"John." Suddenly, Sherlock sounded really uneasy and when John focused on him again, he saw that he was paler than before. He knew. Of course he knew! How could John forget that Sherlock was also a master of deductions? This time, Sherlock didn't stop when he walked towards John. He placed his hand on John's arm carefully, clearly a comforting gesture. "I didn't know." Sherlock still sounded shocked and John breathed in shakily.

"Of course you didn't." He whispered and cursed inwardly when more tears streamed down his face. "I'm fine now." He tried to reassure him.

_Are you?_ Sherlock's sceptical look seemed to ask him. "It wasn't Mycroft's fault." Again, John was surprised by Sherlock's words. "You can be angry at me, but he only did as I asked him." Was Sherlock Holmes just defending his brother? John really had to be dead.

"He lied to me." John shook his head.

"I did that too. And here we are." Sherlock whispered and smiled slightly. "You are not shouting at me anymore."

"Oh but I will again." John muttered half-heartedly. Somehow, he was just feeling tired now. And worn-out. They were standing close to each other, Sherlock's hand still on John's arm. No one moved and they just looked at each other silently.

"You're not as angry as you pretend to be." Sherlock said slowly. "You're disappointed because I lied to you. Even more because Mycroft supported me with it. You're sad, and yes, also angry. But it's all balanced. And you're going to forgive me."

At the last words, John took a step back and ran a hand through his hair. "You're impossible." He remarked dryly. "So some things will never change." He sighed. "I am very angry with you, Sherlock. Just that you know it. And if I wouldn't have gained much self-control in those past two years, I would have beaten the hell out of you in that bar."

When he mentioned his self-control, the sad look appeared on Sherlock's face again. However, it vanished so quickly that John might as well have imagined it.

"We were all very sad." John said now. "Greg" he ignored Sherlock's frown at that name "Mrs. Hudson, me… Molly was also sad. But when she knew…" He sighed. Suddenly, something else made sense to him. Mycroft never seemed too sad because of his brother's death. John always thought that he had much self-control, but now he suspected that it was something else. When he'd known all along that his brother was still alive.

"I didn't want to hurt you this badly." Sherlock's voice ripped John out of his thoughts and he couldn't do anything else than to stare at him wide-eyed. "I'm sorry."

"You…" John started, but he didn't really know what to say. Was Sherlock just apologizing? This was going to be the weirdest day in his life. He ran a hand through his hair again. "I didn't want to hit you."

Sherlock shook his head and smiled his usual smile, the one that always appeared when his deductions were right. "You did. And I don't hold it against you."

John sighed. "Now I know what I didn't miss those past two years!" He groaned. "And yes, I did! Because you don't just leave for two years and pretend that you're dead! That's nothing people do, Sherlock."

John looked around and sighed when he noticed the black car standing in the distance. Of course Mycroft already knew what happened.

Sherlock seemed to notice his distress since he turned around too. "He was fast." He muttered and when John raised an eyebrow at him, he set up for an explanation. "Of course Mycroft knew that I was back, even if I tried to get out of his way. I was successful, until now. I wanted to talk to you first, though. And I knew that he wouldn't let me." He grimaced. "What were you thinking, John? A relationship with Mycroft? And then you even want to marry him?" He shook his head in disgust. "I'll never understand this sentiment. And I expected better from you. Of all people on this planet, you had to choose my brother! And Mycroft!" He muttered something else that sounded to John like 'he should let his fingers from my best friend', but he wasn't sure about it.

"I really don't want to talk to Mycroft right now." John announced loudly and without hesitation, he turned around and walked in the opposite direction. After a few moments, he heard the sound of footsteps and Sherlock appeared next to him.

"I can do without his presence too." He said it confidently, but John noticed the insecure glance Sherlock threw at him.

"Where are you staying?" John asked slowly, trying not to think of Mycroft any longer. He swallowed down his disappointment, just like his anger at Sherlock.

"Well…" Sherlock began hesitantly and John realized what this meant immediately.

"Where did you stay those past weeks? Because you're back for two weeks, right? I saw you." John looked at him questioningly. "You've been following me around."

"As I said, I needed to talk to you." Sherlock said simply.

"And you just decide to run into my bachelor party, of all nights." John muttered in disbelief.

"On every other occasion, you were with Mycroft. And he was trying to find me. He would have never let me come near you when he was around." Sherlock sounded annoyed, but John began to feel guilty at his words. Here he was, together with Sherlock. And to Mycroft, it must look like he was choosing his brother over him.

With a sigh, he stopped again. Sherlock kept walking for a few more meters, until he realized that John wasn't following. "Wait a second." He muttered and reached for his phone in his pocket.

He had a new message.

**Are you alright? He surprised us all, I hope you didn't argue too much. Call me if you need someone to talk. – Greg **

John smiled at the short text and wrote Greg that he was alright. Then he wrote a new message.

**Meet me at 221 B. We need to talk. Love you. – JW **

When he turned around the next time, the black car wasn't following them anymore.

"You want to talk to Mycroft." Sherlock noted and John nodded silently, lost in thoughts. What was he going to say to Mycroft? He was still hurt because he'd been lying to John for nearly two years by now. But when Mycroft really didn't want to hurt him with that…

"And you'll come with me to 221 B." John said himself. He glanced at Sherlock to see him staring at him blankly.

"Only if you want me to. After all, it's your flat now." Sherlock said slowly.

John knew that he should say no. After everything Sherlock had done to him in those two years, after all the hurt and anger, he should really say no. But he already knew that he couldn't do it. It was also Sherlock's flat. They'd never changed the contract after his death, both John and Mrs. Hudson just couldn't bring themselves to do it.

"Actually, it's still yours as well…" John said hesitantly and this time, Sherlock smiled. Even if there was also disbelief in his eyes.

"You didn't change anything?"

John nodded. "Couldn't do it." He said simply. When they walked around a corner, he realized that they would be there soon. "You're going to tell Mrs. Hudson that you're fine once we're there. She still misses you very much." And she always pitied that Sherlock couldn't come to John's and Mycroft's wedding.

"I… can do that." Sherlock said finally, looking insecure. "I bet you want some privacy with Mycroft."

"Exactly." John muttered. Now he wished that he would have gone to Mycroft's house, but it was on the other end of the city. Once they were married, Mycroft wanted John to move in with him. However, John couldn't give up Baker Street. So they made an agreement that they would stay at both places from time to time, just like they did it those past years. But now Sherlock was back and John was sure that Mycroft would never want to sleep in the same flat as his brother…

John was about to search for his key in his pocket when he felt Sherlock's hand on his arm again. "Thank you."

John frowned at him. "What for?"

"For taking me back, I guess." Sherlock muttered, avoiding looking at John.

John sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Don't." He muttered. "After all, I've hit you. How's your nose?"

"Not broken, if you mean that." Sherlock assured him and John relaxed a little.

"I want to be angry at you. God, I am angry at you! Or I was when I first saw you back in that bar." He hesitated. "But you're my best friend." Luckily, Greg couldn't hear him. "And I've missed you for nearly two years. Now you're back and I'm not letting you go again so easily."

Without thinking about it, John pulled Sherlock into a hug. First, Sherlock stiffened, but soon he relaxed. When they let go again, they were both smiling, even if it was still a little insecure.

"Maybe we should go inside. Otherwise, Mycroft will really kill me for taking you away from him for so long." Sherlock muttered and John nodded.

"But don't scare Mrs. Hudson to death." He warned him. "It's in the middle of the night, and she's probably –"

"Watching tv." Sherlock ended his sentence and John nodded. He didn't ask how Sherlock knew that, Mrs. Hudson only did that since last year.

"Right. I'll let you know when you can come upstairs."

Sherlock nodded slowly and together, they entered the house.


	14. Chapter 14

**Next chapter! I hope you like this, please let me know what you think! I'd love to hear your thoughts on John's reaction to Sherlock's return. And thanks to everyone who's following this story or who's writing reviews. It always makes me happy. In case you're wondering, I've got at least five more chapters planned for this, maybe even more. **

**I don't own the characters or places! **

* * *

Slowly, John opened the door to his – no, their – flat.

He wasn't really sure what he was expecting, but it clearly wasn't what he saw once he entered the room. John froze in his movements, his hand still on the door handle. Since the door wasn't completely closed, he could hear the sound of Sherlock knocking on Mrs. Hudson's door.

Not wanting to hear her surprised shouts, John closed the door and took a step into the room. Mycroft was sitting on the couch, his face buried in his hands. When John came closer, he slowly looked up.

John inhaled sharply when he saw the dark rings under Mycroft's eyes and the sad expression on his face. When he looked at him more closely, John also noticed that his fiancé wasn't wearing his usual suit, but just dark jeans and a pullover. Apparently, he'd already been at home when the news of Sherlock's appearance at John's bachelor party reached him.

John didn't know what to say, so he took of his jacket and put his phone and wallet down on the kitchen table. He felt Mycroft's eyes on his back, but he didn't hurry. He didn't really know what to say in a situation like this.

Slowly, the anger was coming back. Anger that Mycroft had lied to him for two years. And of course that Sherlock pretended to be dead. However, John still wasn't sure if he could blame Mycroft for this. After all, Sherlock had asked him to do so…

When John turned around, he saw that Mycroft was walking towards him slowly, a careful look on his face. He hated to see him like this immediately. Mycroft looked like John was going to scream at him or, even worse, to hit him.

"John, I'm sorry –" Mycroft started, but he was interrupted by the sound of someone screaming. The source of the sound was downstairs and John knew that it was Mrs. Hudson.

For a few seconds, John and Mycroft stared at each other silently. "It seems like my brother announced his presence to your landlady." Mycroft muttered now, not looking pleased with the situation.

"And I told him not to scare her to death." John muttered and at the same time, they heard Mrs. Hudson swear loudly. Then the door of her flat was closed with a bang. "If I think about it again, we should be more worried about Sherlock's life. You know how Mrs. Hudson can be when she's angry." John smiled slightly and for half a second, Mycroft's lips twitched.

However, he became serious again very fast. Mycroft sighed. "I can't even tell you how sorry I am, John." He whispered sadly. "I should have told you –" He wanted to explain everything, but John interrupted him.

"Told me what?" He asked sharply. "That you helped Sherlock to fake his death? That my best friend was alive this whole time? That you _lied to me _for_ two years_?!" He clenched his fists and tried to control his anger. However, John knew that he was going to fail. He started to walk around the flat aimlessly, avoiding looking at Mycroft's face. He just couldn't stand the guilt he saw there.

"It was for your own safety, John." Mycroft tried to calm him down now. "Moriarty –"

"Had snipers on the rooftops and they were going to kill Mrs. Hudson, Greg and me if Sherlock left that rooftop alive." John finished his sentence and crossed his arms. "I know, Sherlock told me all this." He glared at Mycroft. "What I don't understand is that you didn't tell me he was alive afterwards! They couldn't keep an eye on us forever, I'm sure our lives weren't in danger anymore after the funeral."

Mycroft sighed. "Sherlock insisted on shattering Moriarty's entire network first. All of his former accomplices were still a possible danger."

"And you helped him with it." John concluded when he saw the look on Mycroft's face.

To his surprise, his fiancé shook his head. "There was not much I could do to help him. Most parts of the network were situated in foreign countries, so my possibilities were limited." When he said it, Mycroft's expression darkened even more. John knew that he always hated it when he couldn't help his brother and this was no exception. "That's also why it took him so long. Back when we made the deal not to tell you, he only said that it could take a few months, half a year at most." He laughed dryly. "Of course my brother underestimated Moriarty and his contacts."

"So you rather watched me mourn for my best friend than to tell me the truth." John muttered. "I mean, come on! You can trust me, Mycroft." _But what if that's the whole point? What if he doesn't trust you enough?_ A small voice inside John's head whispered and somehow, he couldn't ignore her, no matter how hard he tried.

"I do trust you, John." Mycroft said slowly, emphasizing every word. "But it was not that easy."

John raised his eyebrows. "Care to explain?"

Mycroft sighed. "Why don't we sit down while we talk?" He asked and John noticed the insecurity in his voice. Apparently, this situation was just as uncomfortable for him as it was for John himself.

"Alright." John said after half a second of hesitation. Of course Mycroft noticed this and his eyes narrowed. He still had this unhappy expression on his face, which was now also clouded by annoyance. Though John couldn't tell if he was annoyed by himself, Sherlock, John or the situation in general. They sat down on the couch and John couldn't help noticing the space Mycroft left between them. It bothered him, but since he was still angry at Mycroft, he didn't say anything.

"So why didn't you tell me?" John asked when he realized that Mycroft wouldn't speak first.

"First of all, I've promised this to Sherlock." Mycroft began. "You know that I take the things I say very seriously, especially my promises."

"You promised to be honest with me. And that you'd never hurt me." John said before he could stop himself. When he saw the pain in Mycroft's eyes, there was a dull feeling in his stomach. He would have loved to take those words back.

"I had to protect you." His voice wasn't more than a whisper. When John looked at him more closely, he saw that Mycroft's hands were shaking slightly, even if it seemed like he tried to avoid it. "No matter what. The thought that something might happen to you was highly disturbing. And it still is. I meant it when I said that your safety is very important to me."

"So you would rather keep me safe than tell me the truth?" John asked softly, not wanting to hurt Mycroft even more.

"No, please don't believe that, John." Mycroft's tone was slightly pleading now, something John had never heard before. Well, with one exception. The second time that day he thought of the dark afternoon when he'd been sitting on the floor, one hand bleeding, in the other one his phone. When he closed his eyes, he could still hear Mycroft's voice that told him to keep talking. To stay with him.

"What should I believe then?"

"I only had the chance to talk to Sherlock on a few occasions in the past years. Most of the time, he was working undercover and even I didn't know which identities he was using at the moment. You know that he can be very creative." Mycroft breathed in deeply. "Every time we talked, I asked him if I could tell you everything. And every single time, we ended up having a fight and Sherlock just stopped talking to me at all." He smiled slightly, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Your safety was what kept him going those two years. I assume everyone else would have quit this impossible task after a few weeks' time. But not my brother. He destroyed Moriarty's entire network, something we never thought possible. And he even returned to you."

"So you're telling me that Sherlock didn't want me to know because he still thought that it could endanger my life?" John asked slowly, trying to process Mycroft's words. Then he remembered what Sherlock had said earlier. _It wasn't Mycroft's fault. You can be angry at me, but he only did as I asked him._

Mycroft nodded. "He was furious that I wanted to risk your safety. He still doesn't understand that you can look after yourself. And that I can also protect you." Suddenly, there was something else in Mycroft's eyes. Next to all the pain. A fierce determination to protect the ones he loved. John had seen if before on different occasions and he couldn't stop his heart beating a little faster at this.

However, he didn't make any attempt to touch Mycroft. There were a few things they had to talk about first.

"He's been back for nearly two weeks." At the sudden change of subject, Mycroft raised an eyebrow. "I saw him, the day when we were getting the rings. He ran into me on the sidewalk. And you saw him too. But you didn't say anything. Later, he was watching me again when I went to the tailor with Greg."

"I told him not to contact you like this." Mycroft explained slowly.

"Is what why you were acting weird all this time?" John demanded to know.

At his words, Mycroft just stared at him in surprise.

"I know you, Mycroft. And I notice it when something's wrong." Should he tell him about his worries that Mycroft might have second thoughts because of the wedding? Probably not ever, John didn't want Mycroft to worry even more.

But of course, Mycroft already knew what John was thinking. His eyes widened with horror. "You thought that I changed my mind." His voice was barely a whisper now and suddenly, John couldn't look into his eyes anymore. He stared at the floor in front of his feet.

"You were only acting this way around me. With others, everything was completely normal. I saw you talking to Anthea the other day." He added since he could feel Mycroft's questioning look on him.

"John, would you please look at me?" Mycroft's voice was soft now.

When he slowly looked up again, Mycroft was smiling at him. However, this was different from the smiles he'd shown before. This one was warm and loving, the smile he only showed when they were alone. It was John's smile.

After a short moment of hesitation, Mycroft took John's hands. John didn't draw back from him.

"I love you, John Watson." Mycroft said softly. "I've loved you for two years now, probably even longer, even though I didn't notice it back then. And I will always love you, no matter what happens. How can you possibly think that I have doubts about this wedding? That I could just back away from the only person I'll ever love?" He shook his head. "I can't wait to call you my husband."

At the end of Mycroft's short speech, John was smiling as well. "I'm sorry." He muttered. "I shouldn't have doubted you. Everything just happened so fast, then I saw Sherlock everywhere and I thought that I was going crazy…"

"I should have told you." Mycroft interrupted him. "You can't imagine how guilty I felt all this time for lying to you like this. When I saw what my brother's actions have done to you…" He shook his head and his expression darkened again. "Believe me when I say that I wanted to tell you the truth all along. And then I realized how much you mean to me and things got even more complicated." Suddenly, Mycroft just stopped talking and this time, he was avoiding looking at John.

"Mycroft?" He asked carefully, not sure what caused this sudden change of behaviour.

They were still holding hands and when Mycroft wanted to draw back, John tightened his grip. "You can tell me everything, you know that."

This seemed to do it since Mycroft breathed in deeply. "I feared that you might hate me, when you got to know that I've been lying to you all along." Slowly, he raised his head and looked at John. The sadness and fear there made him inhale sharply. "I don't want to lose you, John."

Was Mycroft really afraid that John would break up with him because of this? The look on Mycroft's face told John the answer to his question. Yes, he was afraid of this.

"Let me be honest with you." He began and continued before Mycroft could say or even think anything. "When Sherlock told me that you knew all along, I was disappointed. And hurt. And I was angry at you for not telling me anything. But I was even more angry at Sherlock, for making you lie to me in the first place. Because I know that you'd do anything for your family. You'd do anything to keep them safe and I understand that this was the only possibility back then."

While John was talking, Mycroft's expression changed from afraid to curious. And surprised.

"I love you, Mycroft. And you're not going to lose me." He laughed shortly. "I don't think that I could stand even a single day in my life without you. Maybe I'm still a little disappointed, but I think we can deal with that. Together."

Without thinking about it, John leaned in and kissed Mycroft. For half a second, Mycroft seemed to be frozen in shock, but then he kissed John back. He couldn't tell how long they just sat there, arms wrapped around each other, and kissed. When they finally drew back, they were both breathing heavily, but also smiling.

"But don't you dare lie to me again." John warned him and Mycroft laughed.

"I promise that I won't do it again, John." He swore and touched his cheek carefully.

John grinned. "That's good."

For a few minutes, they just sat there in silence and enjoyed each other's company, like they've done it so many times before in the past two years.

"I expected you to be angrier." Mycroft's voice took John back to reality. "After all, we've been lying to you for two years."

John sighed. "I've had enough trouble for a lifetime in those past years. Now that Sherlock's back, I don't want to ruin everything by being angry for too long. After all, I know what it feels like to lose him." He smiled slightly. "And I could never be angry at you for so long."

"Good to know." Mycroft whispered and kissed him again. "When I got the news that Sherlock showed up at your bachelor party, I was afraid of the consequences."

"Is this why you're not dressed properly?" John teased him, pointing at the pullover and the jeans his fiancé was wearing.

Mycroft chuckled. "I was in a hurry to leave, that's true." Suddenly, he grinned and there was a gleam in his eyes. "Tomorrow, I will be dressed correctly."

John laughed. "I like this outfit as well. You should wear it more often."

"But only when we're alone." Mycroft argued immediately. "You know that I never leave the house –"

"Without a suit." John finished his sentence. "Except for tonight."

"It was an exceptional situation." He muttered. "I had to act fast."

"Did you expect Sherlock and me to break into a huge fight?" John asked curiously.

"You hit my brother." Mycroft gestured at John's hand. He didn't notice that he hadn't cleaned up all of Sherlock's blood before.

"He'll be fine."

"His nose is not broken." Mycroft nodded. John didn't ask how he knew that. "But he'll probably have a bruise on his stomach."

"After everything he's done, he deserved that." John muttered darkly.

"I don't argue with you about that. Sometimes, my brother needs to be reminded that he can't get through with everything."

"So you wanted to hit him before?" John raised his eyebrows.

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "You know that I would never do that."

John nodded. "Hurting someone's not your style. Rather spying on them or kidnapping them to old, abandoned warehouses."

"It worked with you." Mycroft's eyes were shining.

"I hope I'm the only one." He leaned in to kiss Mycroft again.

Just in that moment, the door of the flat flew open and Sherlock stepped in. "Oh my god, can't you do that somewhere else? It hurts my eyes!" He exclaimed loudly.

John and Mycroft flinched back immediately, but Mycroft kept his arms wrapped around John's waist. And to John's surprise, he wasn't embarrassed in the least.

"Normally, people knock on doors before they just enter someone's flat." Mycroft noted dryly.

"I told you to wait downstairs." John muttered and glared at Sherlock. When he looked at him, he noticed that the rest of the dried blood on his face was gone. However, one of his cheeks was red now. John couldn't stop his grin. "Mrs. Hudson didn't seem to be too pleased about your sudden appearance, I assume?"

In his arms, John felt Mycroft chuckle softly.

"She attacked me!" Sherlock said and held out his hands. "Why does everyone has to keep doing that?" At those words, he looked at Mycroft suspiciously.

Mycroft let go of John and held up his hands. "Hurting someone is not my style." He explained and winked at John. Then he stood up slowly and before John knew what was happening, the brothers were hugging each other tightly.

When they let go of each other again, they both took a step back automatically. "It's good to be back." Sherlock muttered and looked at his feet.

"I am happy that you are quite unharmed." Mycroft replied calmly. At this, John frowned. He knew that Sherlock was looking skinnier than before, there were dark rings under his eyes and he was moving somewhat stiffly. However, he didn't think of it very much before. Now, he noticed the signs that his friend was hurt immediately.

"You should stop dressing like this. It doesn't suit you." Sherlock said suddenly and looked at Mycroft with faked disgust. "You look like –"

"No insults in this flat." John interrupted him loudly and stood up as well. "And especially no insults towards my fiancé, who also happens to be your brother." He went to stand next to Mycroft.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Couldn't you have chosen someone else? Someone who's not so…" He looked at Mycroft and grimaced.

However, his brother just watched Sherlock calmly and wrapped an arm around John's waist. "Maybe you should think about moving in with me again." He whispered and ignored Sherlock's silent curses.

John sighed. "Probably, you're right." He could just suppress a yawn. However, Mycroft noticed this immediately. And Sherlock as well.

"Maybe you should leave, Mycroft. John's tired." Sherlock said immediately, wanting to get rid of his brother as fast as possible.

"We should all get some sleep." John muttered and looked at the others. Mycroft was also looking very tired. "I would love to get a few more explanations, like why you two didn't see each other in the past two weeks, but I think that can wait."

"I wanted to talk to you first." Sherlock explained. "It's as easy as that. I knew that Mycroft wouldn't let me talk to you if I went to him first. So I avoided him."

"And I kept looking for you." Mycroft added.

John sighed. "Alright." He muttered. "You're both impossible."

"And you love both of us." Sherlock shot back immediately.

John rolled his eyes. "Most of the time, I rather want to strangle you." He told Sherlock.

"That's not true and you know it."

He groaned. "Why did I let you back in here?"

"You know the answer to that." Sherlock grinned. Then he turned to Mycroft again. "I'll see you tomorrow. And now get out of here."

"You can't be rude to him anymore." John told Sherlock, but he'd already disappeared towards his room.

John accompanied Mycroft to the door. "Seems like everything's going to change again." He said quietly and Mycroft nodded.

"But you're glad that he's back." He remarked.

John nodded. "Remind me of this again when he's annoying me to death."

Mycroft's eyes were shining. "I'll do that." He leaned in to kiss John softly. "I'll see you tomorrow. And then I'm never letting you go again."

John smiled. "Sounds good. And don't be late."

"After all this time, you should know that I'm never late." Mycroft muttered and walked to the black car that was already waiting for him.

John watched the car disappear before he went upstairs again. Just to find Sherlock sitting in his usual armchair.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15! I hope you like it, please let me know what you think! And thanks to everyone who follows or reviews this story! In the next chapters, it'll get more exciting! After all, Sherlock's back. I think Mycroft will worry when they're going on cases again. And who knows, maybe something might go wrong? I think there are about five chapters left to this story, but I'm not completely sure. Maybe it'll be more, we'll see. **

**I don't own the characters or places! **

* * *

When John opened his eyes the next morning, it was still dark outside. A look at the clock told him that it was six in the morning. So he'd slept for about four hours. Not enough for a long day like this. Nevertheless, he knew that he wouldn't get more sleep either.

Today, he was going to marry Mycroft Holmes.

At that thought, his heart began to beat faster. He'd waited so long for this. And finally, the day was there. John really hoped that everything would work out fine.

He stood up slowly and made his way to the bathroom. Since he couldn't sleep anymore, he could also just get ready. He tried not to make too much noise, after all, Sherlock was still asleep. At that thought, he froze.

Sherlock.

And then all the memories of the last night came back at once. Sherlock showing up. His explanations. The conversation with Mycroft. Inwardly, John cursed. How could he forget something like that, even for a few minutes? Most probably, a shower would help him to calm down now. And he really needed to relax before he could face Sherlock.

How would the wedding work out now? Would Sherlock be Mycrofts best man now? Or Johns? But what about Greg then? In the end, he decided that Mycroft would have planned everything already, so John didn't need to worry.

When he left the bathroom half an hour later, he found Sherlock sitting in his armchair. At the sight, Johns heart skipped a beat. In the past two years, he would have given anything to see him sitting there again. And now he was back. Alive and well.

Or maybe not so well, when John thought of Mycrofts words the previous night once more. And when he looked at Sherlock more closely, he noticed that he was sitting quite stiffly. Or was he just feeling uncomfortable because of the situation?

He smiled when John walked in. "Good morning."

"Morning." John couldn't stop himself from smiling.

"I've made you tea." Sherlock said, still sounding a little awkward.

John sat down. "Thank you." The tea was just as John liked it. Of course Sherlock still knew that. "It's good." Why on earth didn't he know what to say? After all, this was his best friend! A friend who's been gone for two years. And all this time, John thought that Sherlock was dead. Maybe it wasn't so strange why he didn't know what to say.

When it became obvious that Sherlock wouldn't say anything and just looked at John silently, John decided to take action. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine." Sherlock assured him immediately, maybe a little too fast. "Nothing I couldn't deal with. Besides, you didn't even break my nose. If it would have been a real fight, you would have to aim more accurate."

"I didn't want to hurt you like that!" John shot back, shocked that Sherlock thought this. "I was just angry, and I'm really sorry."

To his surprise, Sherlock grinned. "You're not sorry, John. Otherwise, you would look more guilty. You still think that I deserved it." Damn deductions. "Your second blow was quite strong. No need to worry, of course. I've lived through worse."

John sighed. "Alright, you really deserved that. But you don't just pretend to be dead for two years, Sherlock!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Yes, and I won't do it again. We've already talked about this last night. And if I would even consider doing that again, I bet that Mycroft would lock me up before I could even say 'John Watson'."

"And it would be good if he did." John muttered.

Suddenly, Sherlock looked concerned. "I didn't want to hurt you, John."

"It's fine." John said, not wanting to talk about that again. Luckily, Sherlock got the message. But why did he have the feeling that they would need to talk about that some day anyhow?

"You're in pain." John said after a few minutes of silence. "And not just because of me."

"What are you talking about?" Sherlock asked, telling John that he was right.

"You're moving more stiffly than usual. Normally, you tend to turn your head more often, especially when you're uncomfortable. And you're avoiding leaning back in your armchair properly, even if you love that normally. I would say your back is hurting. Oh, and last night, Mycroft said you were 'quite unharmed', which means that you're not completely well. And I knew he didn't mean the pain _I've_ caused you." He crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows. "Did I miss something?"

Sherlock stared at him blankly. "Mycroft taught you a few things about observation." He said slowly.

"No, he didn't." John argued. "That was you."

Sherlock's lips twitched, but the self-praising comment was missing. John couldn't quite interpret the look on his face. Did Sherlock look sad? But not entirely. When Sherlock cleared his throat, John realized what it was! Regret. For leaving, or because John was closer to Mycroft now?

"You're injured." John stated now, not wanting to talk about feelings of any kind.

Sherlock sighed. "Yes, I am, John. But could we please drop the subject now? After all, today's your wedding day. And it shouldn't be clouded by something like this."

"Don't be stupid." He argued immediately. "Did you see a doctor ever since you came back?"

When Sherlock avoided to look into John's eyes, he nodded, more to himself. "So I thought." He muttered and stood up. "I want to have a look at it."

"No!" Sherlock shouted immediately and jumped to his feet. John noticed that he tried to hide that he flinched at the sudden movement. "Absolutely not. I can take care of myself."

John raised his eyebrows. "Doesn't look like it." He said simply. "Now come on. I just want to help you, Sherlock."

He shook his head fiercely. "I can deal with that by myself." Did John imagine it or was Sherlock paler than before?

"I've taken care of your injuries before. What's different now?" Didn't he understand that John just wanted to help him?

"I just don't want you to look at it today."

"And tomorrow would be different?" John asked and crossed his arms.

Sherlock swallowed. "Probably not." He admitted.

"You can trust me, Sherlock." John sighed. "Don't you see that I want to help you?"

"I would say yes to everything else. But not this." Sherlock said, his voice unusually quiet.

Suddenly, realization dawned to him. "How bad did they hurt you?" No answer. "Does anyone else know about this?" Again, nothing. "Sherlock, does Mycroft know?"

Sherlock breathed in deeply and shook his head. "He knows that I was injured, but not more."

John stared at him for a few moments before he found his voice again. "If you don't come with me freely, I'll have to force you into the bathroom. And then I'm going to look at your injuries either way. And remember that you owe me a lot for two years of lying."

He didn't know what did it, but Sherlock followed him quietly.

The next hour, John spent looking at Sherlock's several injuries. Some of them were already healing, while others weren't. And there were also scars. Lots of scars. John had seen him shirtless before and he knew that most of them hadn't been there two years ago. Sherlock didn't want to talk about it, and John didn't ask any questions. He just took care of him as good as possible. Maybe one day, Sherlock would talk to him about everything that happened. But not now.

When they were finished, Sherlock avoided to look at John. "Thank you." He muttered. "And you won't tell Mycroft?"

John shook his head. "I won't." He promised. "But most probably, he'll know everything when he sees us later."

Sherlock groaned. "I don't like that you spend so much time with him." While saying that, he sounded like a child.

John chuckled. "You'll have to live with that."

Sherlock looked at John curiously. "You really love him."

He nodded. "More than anything."

"And he loves you too." Sherlock stated. "I've never seen him like last night before. It was scary, seeing him smile at you. And the hugging and kissing…" He grimaced. "I never thought that Mycroft would find someone."

John grinned. "Get used to it. We see each other every day."

"Do you want to move in with him?" Sherlock's sudden question took John by surprise.

"What?"

"With Mycroft. Now that you're going to marry. After all, he's got a house."

John hesitated. "We've talked about it. But until last night, I didn't think that I could give up Baker Street. We wanted to stay at both places sometimes."

"Mycroft would never sleep in the same flat as I do." Sherlock said dryly. "So you'll move in with him."

"I'm keeping the room here, if you're okay with that." John interrupted him.

Sherlock's eyes widened slightly. "Why would you want to stay with me?"

At the question, John started laughing. "For a genius, you can be very stupid sometimes. You're my best friend, Sherlock."

"And…?" Of course he didn't get it.

"Now that you're back, I want to spend time with you as well." He grinned. "And how would you solve all your cases without your blogger?"

Suddenly, Sherlock smiled as well. "You would still go on cases with me?"

John rolled his eyes. "Stupid." He repeated and in return, Sherlock rolled his eyes as well.

"But what about Lestrade? You've helped them with cases in the past two years." He crossed his arms.

"I don't want to know how you knew that." John decided. "It was just a way of passing time, helping Greg." He tried to explain. "Yes, it was fun and exciting, but it wasn't the same as with you."

This time, Sherlock's eyes were shining when he grinned.

* * *

"You can't just pretend to be dead for two years! It doesn't work like that, Sherlock." Greg tried again, but Sherlock just rolled his eyes.

"You've already explained that, Lestrade." He muttered "And I already said that I won't do it again."

"Just drop it, Greg." John threw in, emphasizing his name. Sherlock just frowned at John. 'Who's Greg?' his expression said.

John sighed. "You're impossible." He muttered before he looked around again.

The three of them were standing in front of the church, all dressed in black suits. John didn't know where Sherlock got his from, but he didn't really care. He'd called someone after John took care of his wounds and twenty minutes later, someone had knocked on their door.

All around them, people were talking or already entering the church. John saw Mrs. Hudson and Molly (who stared at Sherlock when he didn't look), a few friends from NSY and Mycrofts and Sherlocks parents. Mycroft wasn't there yet, but John knew that he would arrive soon. Most probably with Anthea, who was invited as well.

His heart was racing, but he tried to stay calm. Nothing would go wrong today. Not after last night. There had been a change in the plan since Sherlock was back now. Instead of Greg, Sherlock would be Johns best man now. And Greg would stand beside Mycroft. Since they didn't want John to call Mycroft before the wedding, Sherlock and Greg had made the new plan. Mycroft had agreed reluctantly.

John feared that Mycroft was mad at him for accepting Sherlock back without a huge fight. And that he could forgive him so easily. But honestly, John didn't want to stay mad anymore. Not after those past two years in which he'd mourned Sherlock. He hoped that Mycroft would understand this.

When he saw Mrs. Hudson and Molly approach them, John smiled.

"I'm sure you're nervous, John." Mrs. Hudson said when she took his hands. "But it's fine. Back at my wedding, I've been nervous too. I nearly fled from the church. But in the end, everything turned out alright." She smiled widely and then she turned to Sherlock and Greg.

"It's still so surprising to see you here, Sherlock. And alive, most of all. It's good that you and John talk to each other. I couldn't stand it if you would have a huge fight." She glanced at Greg. "And you're even going to be Johns best man! And you'll be with Mycroft, Greg? You're good friends, aren't you?"

Greg nodded, while Sherlock just stared at Mrs. Hudson. John would have loved to know what he was thinking. "Yes, Mycroft and I get along very well."

Mrs. Hudson grinned. "He won when you played chess on Christmas."

Greg grimaced. When John thought of the chess match, he chuckled. It had been hilarious, seeing Mycroft and Greg playing against each other. The game had lasted for about three minutes. "Don't say anything." Greg whispered to John now, which made him laugh even more.

"Wait." Sherlock said suddenly. "Mycroft and Lestrade are friends now?" The shock in his voice was obvious and now Greg and Mrs. Hudson were laughing as well.

"What's so funny?" Sherlock asked, this time sceptically.

"Oh, it's nothing." John assured him quickly. Luckily, their conversation was interrupted by the sound of a car parking next to them. A black car.

John barely noticed that Anthea was wearing a beautiful red dress and even smiled. He only had eyes for the man that got out of the car after her.

In his dark suit, Mycroft looked handsome as always. His eyes scanned the crowd and he smiled when he spotted John. However, he didn't get a chance to join them. As soon as he began to walk, his parents were with him, talking softly.

They looked towards John and Sherlock a few times, but they didn't approach them. And somehow, John was glad about it. He liked Mycrofts parents, but their conversation with Sherlock earlier had made him thoughtful. Of course they'd known that he was alive all along. However, they'd also been angry at their youngest son. For not coming to them once he was back. Since he also told them that he wanted to speak to John first, he wasn't sure if they blamed him for this now.

All those thoughts vanished when they entered the church and the music started to play.

* * *

"Everything went well." Mycroft whispered into John's ear. "I told you not to worry."

"Well, _today_, everything was fine." John agreed and smiled. A few hours had passed since the wedding and now they were having a party. They had booked a small restaurant outside of London, where they could celebrate outside. John thought it was very nice.

After all the congratulations, John and Mycroft had chosen a place apart from the others. They wanted to be alone for some time, until someone found them again. Mycroft had his arms wrapped around John's waist from behind, while John was leaning against him.

"Again, I apologize for last evening." Mycroft muttered. "I wish I could have prevented that."

"It's fine." John threw in. "I'm not mad at you."

"And you're not angry at Sherlock either." It wasn't a question.

"A little bit, maybe." John said slowly. "But you already knew that I couldn't stay angry at him for too long."

He felt Mycroft nod. "You agreed for him to be your best man immediately." He sounded thoughtful.

"Are you angry with me?" John asked hesitantly. "For forgiving him so fast?"

"Why should I feel like that towards you?" Did Mycroft sound offended? "He's my brother. And you're my husband. I'm glad that you put aside your argument that fast." John smiled when he heard the pride in Mycroft's voice. He turned around in his arms and kissed him softly.

"I love you."

Mycroft smiled. "And I love you, John." Then he frowned. "Will you explain to me why you thought that I might be angry?"

John sighed. "You'll think that it's stupid." He tried to avoid the subject.

"I could never think of you as stupid." Mycroft whispered and John believed him.

"You know how much he hurt me." John began hesitantly. "And how I was feeling two years ago, when you first came to me. And last night, Sherlock came back. Yes, I was angry, but not for long. I let him back in my life without hesitation. I thought you might not like this."

"I knew how much he means to you the first time I saw you together." Mycroft explained. "I am glad that the weight of his death has been lifted from your shoulders again, John."

John let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

"And I know that you will go on cases with Sherlock again." Mycroft smiled. "All I ask is for you to be careful. I couldn't stand it when something happened to you."

John smiled back at him. "I'll be careful." He promised. "However, I can't say that for Sherlock. You know how he is."

Mycroft nodded. "I'll talk to him later."

"Won't work." John said immediately.

"Probably, you're right. But I'll try it either way." Mycroft decided.

"Good luck at that." John kissed him again.

"Of course we'll talk to him together." At that, John sighed. "After all, we also have to explain that you won't be staying at Baker Street every night."

"Alright." John gave in. "But let's do that later. When someone finds us."

"I bet my brother is already looking for you." Mycroft stated. "He can't stand a too high amount of time without your presence."

"Then let's enjoy our time alone." John kissed him again.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16 already! I hope you like it, please let me know what you think! There won't be as much Johncroft in this chapter, but there'll be more soon. **

**I don't own the characters or places! **

* * *

"No, no, no! BORING!" Sherlock shouted and John looked up from his newspaper. It was a normal morning at 221 B Baker Street, about three months after Sherlock's return. Sherlock's injuries were healing well, about a week after Johns and Mycrofts wedding, he started to take cases from Greg again. Most of the time, John was living with Mycroft now and he enjoyed it very much. He only stayed at Baker Street over night when Mycroft wasn't home or when John and Sherlock were on cases and returned late at night (he didn't want to wake Mycroft, even if he insisted that it was alright).

"I didn't say anything yet!" A confused looking Greg stammered, looking from Sherlock to John and back.

"You don't have to say anything, Lestrade." Sherlock shook his head. "The way you're looking, combined with the way you're holding those papers and the dirt on your shoes tell me enough."

"But –" Greg started once more, however Sherlock interrupted him.

"It was the daughter." Sherlock muttered, a look of annoyance on his face. "Why do you even bother me with cases like this?"

"Wait, I don't get it." John threw in and ignored the fact that Sherlock was rolling his eyes. "What are you talking about?" He raised his eyebrows at Greg.

"Someone has stolen money from an old lady who lives not far from here." Greg explained and sighed. "Alright, I'll let someone check the daughter."

Sherlock didn't seem to listen to them anymore. He was already typing on his phone again.

"That's not the only reason why you're here, is it?" John asked when Greg remained standing there, looking uncomfortable.

"No, but I don't think he cares." He looked over to Sherlock, who still didn't seem to listen.

Suddenly, he grimaced and put down his phone. Just to look at John with wide eyes. "You called the case from last week 'The Telephone Murderer'?! What's that title? Couldn't you have chosen something even more boring, John?"

Now John sighed. Of course Sherlock would care about something like that. He ran a hand through his hair. "How would you have called a story in which a man murders people in telephone booths? Besides, people love it. So stop complaining."

It was true. After Sherlocks return from the dead, even more people were reading Johns blog. And they loved it. One of the papers even wanted an interview with Sherlock concerning his faked death, which he declined politely. They hadn't talked about all the lies the press had told about Sherlock very much. One evening, when Mycroft had visited them at Baker Street about two weeks after Sherlocks return, he'd informed his brother about everything. Also about the things John did to restore Sherlock's reputation. First, Sherlock didn't say anything. He just stared at John silently. However, before John and Mycroft wanted to leave, he'd hugged John tightly and whispered a quiet 'thank you' into his ear.

Sherlock looked like he wanted to say more, but then he turned to Greg abruptly. "Why are you still here, Lestrade? I solved your case."

"Which was not the main reason why I'm here." Greg grabbed a chair from the kitchen and sat down in front of them. "Four days ago, a man from Oxford vanished. He didn't return after work and his wife called the police. They started to look for him, but no one knew where he could be. The last person who saw him was someone at work, here in London." Greg opened his file and pulled out a photograph.

"I know this man." John said when he saw the photo and frowned. "He's a politician. Mycroft talked about him recently, they've been on a meeting together."

Greg nodded. "Alan Brighton." He said when Sherlock just frowned at the picture without any signs of recognition. "He's a very famous politician, people love him."

"There were rumours that he might be the next Prime Minister." John added.

Sherlock shrugged. "Alright, he went missing. Did they find him?"

"The body was found in the Thames, twenty miles south of London."

"He drowned?" John asked, but Greg shook his head.

"He was shot. They tried to sink the body in the river. Without success. A fisherman found him this morning." Greg showed them another photograph.

When he glanced at Sherlock, John noticed that his eyes were shining with excitement. "He never left London, I suppose?" Sherlock asked.

Greg nodded. "That's what we assume as well. His wallet and keys were still in his pockets, before you ask. The phone is there as well, but the water made it unusable. Our experts will try to get the data, but they don't have much hope."

"So they didn't want to steal anything. This was all about him and something he did." John concluded.

"Or didn't want to do." Sherlock muttered. Suddenly, he jumped to his feet. "I want to see the place where he was found. And the body, of course."

Greg didn't look surprised. "Some of my people are already trying to find out more about his work. His friends, enemies, you know that stuff. His political attitude."

They nodded while they made their way to the door. "I can ask Mycroft about this." John offered. "He knew him."

Greg smiled, a look of relief on his face. "That would be great."

In the car, none of them talked very much. Sherlock was looking out of the window thoughtfully, his mind completely on the new case. Greg asked John a few questions about his time with Mycroft, while John tried to find out more about Gregs new girlfriend. In the end, they remained silent. Of course only after they received an annoyed look from Sherlock.

When they arrived at the riverbank, the first thing John noticed was how desolate the place was. The next buildings were about two miles away. It was a miracle that the fisherman found the body at all. There were only few people around, mostly police officers from Gregs team. They greeted John when they saw him.

"You can talk to the man who found him." Sherlock told John shortly and made his way to the body. With a sigh, John took out his notebook and walked over to him. The man couldn't tell him much. He was out with his boat when he saw something strange in the water, close to the shore. When he got closer, he noticed that it was a body. He pulled it to the shore and then he called the police. John didn't even write it down.

When he approached Sherlock, John couldn't stop himself from smiling. It still surprised him that he was alive. And that they were going on cases again. Sometimes, it all felt like a dream. But then he saw Mycroft and his brilliant smile and once again, the reality that the past years have really happened hit him.

John felt like the luckiest man in the world. He had an amazing husband whom he loved with all his heart. And a crazy, annoying best friend with whom he solved cases. And then there was Greg, also an amazing friend. Unlike Sherlock, Greg also used to talk about feelings and lots of other stuff which the detective would describe as boring or silly.

"Does he know anything?" Sherlock asked without looking up.

"Nothing." John shook his head.

"I already thought so." Sherlock muttered and stood up. Apparently, he'd finished examining the body. "Molly will need to have a look at it." Sherlock told Greg, who was also standing close to them. "I want to know if the bullet wound or something else was deadly."

"You think there might be something else?" John asked curiously and looked at the body. When he knelt down, he saw what Sherlock meant immediately. "Poison?" The lips of the man were slightly purple. The water could have been the reason for this, but since he didn't drown, it seemed unlikely to John.

"Maybe." Sherlock nodded and smiled slightly. "I think we'll know more tomorrow."

"I'll inform you once we find out more." Greg said.

"Of course you will." Sherlock said simply. "And we'll also see what we can do."

Now Greg raised his eyebrows curiously. "You found something else?"

"I'm not sure yet." He replied vaguely. "Come on, John. We need to get going." Without waiting for an answer, Sherlock started to walk towards the street. John exchanged a confused look with Greg, but he followed Sherlock.

* * *

"What did you find?" John asked once they were on their way back to London. "You didn't want Greg to see it, but don't think I didn't notice."

Sherlock chuckled. "I nearly forgot how attentive you can be, John." Then he grinned and pulled out a small card. He handed it to John, who frowned. On the card was a sign and nothing else. It resembled a rose, but behind it were two objects crossing each other. A pistol and a scroll.

"Do you know what this means?" John asked and Sherlock shook his head.

"No, but we're going to find out." He told the taxi driver an address in London.

"You're sure that this means something?" After all, many people had several cards in their wallets.

"It wasn't in his wallet, if you think that." Sherlock informed him, knowing Johns thoughts. "I looked at that as well. But all cards there are much older. This one is rather new. It was in the pocket of his shirt. And everything else he was carrying next to his credit card were business cards of known politicians or companies. This one seems to be out of place, it's not his style to own it."

"And how are we going to find out what this means?"

"We're talking to an old friend of mine." Sherlock smiled mysteriously.

John knew what this meant. "You don't coincidentally mean your old 'friend' who worked for this guy from the black market once?"

"Carlos isn't so bad." Sherlock muttered and rolled his eyes. "I still don't understand why you hate him so much."

"I don't hate him." John corrected. "I just don't like people who do illegal things. Especially when they own a gun, tend to sit under dark bridges or in shifty pubs. Oh, and when they threaten you on a regular basis once you talk to them."

"He helped us before." Sherlock argued. "And I bet he can help us again."

"We'll see." John muttered darkly.

Their conversation ended when Johns phone rang. "Hey Mycroft." He said once he answered the call.

"You wrote you wanted to talk to me?" Mycroft asked, sounding stressed. In the background, John heard people talking. Most probably, Mycroft was in some kind of meeting.

"Yes, it's about a case we're working on." John just wanted to explain everything shortly when Sherlock yanked his phone away from him.

"Meet us at Baker Street in three hours." Sherlock said shortly and before John knew what was happening, Sherlock had ended the call.

"What are you doing?" John snapped when he took his phone back from Sherlock. "You can't just take my phone when I'm talking to someone!"

"It would have been a short conversation either way. And there would have been far too much 'I love you' for my liking. I heard you talk to Mycroft on the phone before." He was looking out of the window again.

Johns phone in his hand vibrated. A text from Mycroft.

**I'll meet you at your flat at five pm. Don't do anything stupid.** – MH

John smiled at the text but wasn't sure if he could promise Mycroft to be careful. Not when he knew who they were going to meet soon.

This time, Sherlock's contact was really sitting under one of the several bridges in London. He seemed to be asleep but opened his eyes when they got closer. When he recognized Sherlock, he grinned.

"What an honour, Sherlock Holmes, just back from the dead, comes to see me." He was lisping and when he grinned, John could see his dirty teeth.

"Unfortunately, yes." Sherlock agreed. "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't necessary."

John noticed the gleam in Carlos' eyes, telling that he hoped for much money. "What is it you need this time?"

"Information." Sherlock replied simply.

Carlos frowned and seemed to hesitate. "That will be expensive."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "You assume that you can help us."

"Even if I can't, it will be expensive for you. Otherwise, the wrong people might get to know that you were here." Now he was grinning widely.

"If anyone else would get to know that we were here, I could also tell a few people interesting stories about you." Sherlock threw in. "After all, I helped you out a few years ago. Or did you forget how you escaped your boss?" Now it was Sherlock's turn to grin.

Carlos sighed, suddenly he was very pale. "Alright, I won't tell anyone." He said finally. "Why are you here?"

Sherlock pulled the card out of his pocket and showed it to Carlos.

John didn't expect this reaction from the other man. When he saw the sign on the card, he flinched violently and jumped to his feet. "Where did you get that?" He asked and looked around, as if he wanted to make sure that no one could see them. Suddenly, he grabbed both John and Sherlock and pulled them in the nearest corner. "You can't just run around with this." He whispered urgently. "It's dangerous."

Sherlock exchanged a look with John. He was completely serious now. "Interesting. So why is this dangerous? And what does this sign mean?"

"Not many people know this." Carlos whispered, still looking uncomfortable. "And you would do good just to forget it. I won't tell anyone, I promise. Otherwise, they would be after me too."

"Who are they?" John asked.

"They call themselves the 'Society of the Rose'. Explains their sign. And their goal is to destroy the government. They want a new one, controlled by them. The scroll stands for the government." Carlos breathed in deeply.

"And the gun stands for their methods?" John guessed and wasn't surprised when Carlos nodded.

"You should leave. I didn't see you today. And I don't know anything of those people." John noticed that Carlos was shivering. "Don't get involved with them, they are dangerous." Carlos began to pack his things. Before he could vanish around a corner, he looked back at them. "That you found this card isn't a good sign. It seems like they're starting to fulfil their plans. Don't look for me again, I'll leave London with the next train."

He vanished around the next corner, leaving John and Sherlock alone. They looked at each other silently for a few moments before Sherlock cleared his throat. "At least we know with whom we're dealing now."

"He was really scared." John noted when they made their way back to Baker Street. "He even wants to leave the city. How bad can this society be?"

"He's probably overreacting." Sherlock decided. "Maybe Mycroft can tell us more about them. When they want to destroy the government, he should know them."

"Except when they were really working in the shadows." John muttered and couldn't stop himself from being worried for Mycroft. After all, he was an essential part of the British government. He could even be another target of that society.

"You can't believe that something like that could stay completely unnoticed, John." Sherlock said contemptuously.

He shrugged. "Everything's possible."

"Not exactly." Sherlock argued immediately.

"Says my best friend who came back from the dead." John noticed.

"I wasn't dead." Sherlock was sounding slightly annoyed now. "It was all well planned."

"Yes, and we agreed that I don't want to know how you did it."

This made Sherlock fall silent again. When John glanced at him, he saw that he looked kind of depressed. "You know that I'm not mad at you anymore?" He asked, not being able to stand the look on Sherlock's face.

"You're not?" The surprise in his voice was obvious. And there was something else. Was it relief?

"Nope. Not anymore." John paused. "But if you do it again, I will be really angry. Understood?"

Sherlock nodded silently and John wondered if he witnessed the first time that Sherlock Holmes was at a loss of words.

* * *

"You want to tell me that this organization kills politicians?" Mycroft raised his eyebrows at them sceptically. They were all sitting at Baker Street, John and Mycroft on the couch, while Sherlock occupied an armchair. Mycroft had come directly after work, he was still wearing his suit (and since Sherlock was there, that wouldn't change).

"Yes, that's what my contact said." Sherlock agreed and showed Mycroft the card. He looked at it with a frown on his face.

"I've never seen this sign before. Neither have I heard of a 'Society of the Rose'. Most probably, your friend just wanted to play a joke on you, Sherlock."

"He left the city, Myc." John threw in. "We checked that. Without looking back. Took the next train north. And to me, he didn't seem like the type who just fled from trouble."

This made Mycroft frown again. "I will see if I can find out more about this." He said finally.

"You would do good with it." Sherlock said. "After all, you're a possible target for them." John could just stop himself from flinching. Nevertheless, Mycroft seemed to have noticed that something bothered him. He reached out for Johns hand and squeezed it.

"What are you going to do now concerning Alan Brighton's death?" Mycroft asked.

"We'll continue our investigations. I'm going to talk to his friends and family tomorrow while John's at work." Sherlock explained.

Mycroft nodded slowly. "Even if I am still sceptical concerning this secretive society, you should be more careful from now on." He told them. "If it is true what you heard, they are very dangerous."

"We're always careful." Sherlock ignored the reproachful look on John's face.

"Of course you are." Mycroft muttered, also not believing his brother. Suddenly, he cleared his throat. "If that is all you wanted to discuss, John and I should leave now."

"Dinner at home?" John asked when he stood up and Mycroft nodded with a smile.

"I'm not in the mood for a restaurant today."

"Also bad for your diet." Sherlock muttered, but Mycroft ignored him.

"Let's go." He took Johns hand. "Call me if something happens, Sherlock."

"Not a chance." Sherlock waved at them when they left the flat.


	17. Chapter 17

**The next chapter! And with it come many secrets, I think. But don't worry, everything will be explained soon! Please let me know what you think! And thank you so much for the support, it makes me happy to see that people are reading this story and when I see that there's a new review! I had the idea for this story about a year ago, when I was watching Sherlock again. I still can't believe that I really write it! **

**I don't own the characters or places!**

* * *

"I meant what I said earlier." Mycroft muttered, ripping John out of his thoughts. It was late in the evening and they were already lying in bed. After they left, they didn't talk about Sherlocks and Johns new case anymore. They had talked about Mycrofts day at work and Gregs new girlfriend, but not the murder of a politician. That's why John didn't realize what Mycroft was talking about first.

"What do you mean?" He asked softly and turned around so he was facing Mycroft. With his free hand he drew random patterns on his back.

"That from now on, you should be more careful. And that you must call me when something happens." The look on Mycrofts face was serious. "I don't want anything to happen to you."

John could see the concern in Mycrofts eyes. "We're always careful." He said immediately, though it wasn't completely true.

"_You_ are always careful, John." Of course Mycroft knew what he was thinking. "My brother, on the other hand, tends to do risky things. And since you will be with him, you can be also in danger."

"And that would be highly disturbing." John concluded and Mycrofts smile made his heart beat faster.

"Exactly." His husband agreed. However, he became serious again. "You must promise me to be careful." His voice was urgent and Mycroft wrapped his arms around John, as if he'd never want to let him go.

"I do." John whispered and kissed Mycroft slowly. They stayed like this for some time, arms wrapped around each other and kissing. When they finally parted, John smiled. "I love you."

"I love you too, John." Mycroft touched his cheek carefully.

"Don't worry, we'll be fine. Even if it doesn't seem so sometimes, Sherlock knows what he's doing."

"I hope that your faith in my brother will be enough this time." Mycroft sighed. "I can't shake off the feeling that something is going to happen."

John raised his eyebrows. "I thought you didn't believe in fate?"

Mycroft nodded. "I don't." He agreed. "Nevertheless, I have a bad feeling about this case."

"And you're sure that you're not worried for yourself? Or others who are working with you?" John asked. "After all, the government is their target. Not Sherlock Holmes with his assistant."

Mycroft chuckled. "You're more than just his assistant, John." He breathed in deeply. "And no, I'm not worried for myself. Neither for the ones who work with me. I'm worried for _you_. And my brother, of course. When you try to find out more about this Society of the Rose, they can become aware of your investigations. From what we've seen so far, they don't shrink from killing people for their goals."

John tightened his grip around Mycrofts waist. "You don't have to worry." He whispered into his ear. "We've lived through worse. Remember Moriarty?"

"For him, it was fun to play with Sherlock." Mycroft threw in. "That was different."

He shook his head. "He tried to kill us. Many times." He reminded him. "And in the end, he succeeded in this game."

Mycroft sighed. "Alright, not so different after all."

For some time, they didn't say anything. John closed his eyes and listened to Mycrofts heartbeat. Somehow, it had a calming effect on him. If he could, he would stay here, in this moment, forever.

He still thought that Mycroft's fears were unfounded. Or weren't they? He remembered Carlos' reaction when he saw the card. And the body of Alan Brighton, lying in the dirt. Suddenly, the image changed and it wasn't Brighton anymore. Mycroft was lying there, motionless, with unseeing eyes.

John opened his eyes again, just to see that Mycroft was looking at him with a frown on his face. "We're going to solve this case." John muttered and kissed Mycroft again.

* * *

When he left work, Sherlock was already waiting for John, leaning on a taxi. He waved when he saw John and they both got in the car. Sherlock was looking annoyed.

"No luck with the family and friends?" John guessed.

Sherlock shook his head. "Not a clue." He muttered. "Total waste of time. His wife was crying. Didn't say a useful word. And he didn't have many friends. Some of them were scared for their life as well, others didn't know anything."

"Where are we going now?" John asked, even though he already suspected the answer.

"Talking to Molly. She called right before you finished work, said she found something interesting." This time, Sherlock was smiling slightly.

"Mycroft wrote me a few hours ago." John told him. "He couldn't find out anything about our sign. But they're more careful from now on, increased security measures, you know that stuff."

Sherlock nodded. "And he's watching us too, I assume?"

"He didn't say anything like that." John answered simply. After Mycrofts reaction last night, John had also assumed that he might keep an eye on them from now on.

"So he's really watching us." Sherlock muttered, though he didn't sound angry. "I thought so. He can't let anything happen to you, after all."

Before John could reply something, the taxi stopped.

"The shot wasn't deadly." Molly told them, but she looked at Sherlock. "He died of something else."

"So he's been poisoned?" John asked curiously. First, Molly frowned at him. Apparently, she's forgotten that John was there as well. He didn't blame her, though. After all, Sherlock was back and she was still in love with him.

"Yes." Molly answered and now she smiled at John too. "You were right with the signs you saw." She pointed at his lips and the hands. "It's a rare poison, hard to get. And highly illegal."

Sherlock's eyes were shining with excitement. "Hard to get, you say?"

She nodded. "Even I would have difficulties to get it." She explained.

"Interesting." Sherlock muttered and began to type on his phone. John knew that he contacted someone who could help them with the poison.

Molly told them a few more facts about the body, but there weren't many things of interest for them. Only the shot and the poison.

"Do you have the bullet?" Sherlock asked, but she shook her head.

"Shot right through him."

John wasn't surprised when Sherlock looked disappointed.

They said goodbye to Molly (not after she tried to invite Sherlock for coffee, which he ignored) and made their way back to their taxi. Sherlock didn't tell John where they were going now, but he didn't care. He was used to this and he would see it soon enough.

A look at the clock told John that it was nearly six in the afternoon. Mycroft would already be home, so John sent him a short text, telling him that he was still out with Sherlock. Again, Mycroft told him to be careful.

They stopped in front of a small house close to the Thames and met one of Sherlocks contacts. He told him about the poison and after receiving some money, the man promised to find out where to get it. And, if possible, who used to buy it. After that, Sherlock talked to another woman on the street (probably someone from his homeless network), but John didn't understand what they were talking about.

When he asked Sherlock about this, he didn't reply.

John spent the night at Baker Street.

* * *

The next days, not much happened. Sherlocks contact didn't show up and since he got bored, Sherlock helped Greg with other cases. John spent most of his free time with Mycroft, even if his husband was busy now. In one week, there would be an important meeting of politicians of all parties. The Prime Minister was also invited, but he didn't accept yet. Something about a meeting with the Queen, Mycroft couldn't tell John more.

The meeting was set in a big theatre in the middle of London. John didn't understand why, but apparently, politicians liked the atmosphere. Not Mycroft, of course. He just accepted it silently. Anthea would accompany him for safety reasons. Mycroft took the threat of the Society of the Rose very serious.

Two days before said meeting, Sherlock visited John at work. He never did that, which made John suspicious immediately.

"You can't just show up here, Sherlock." John hissed quietly, trying not to attract any attention. Nevertheless, a few people stared at them. He blamed Sherlock for this, after all, his face was well-known.

"It's your lunch break." Sherlock said simply. "So you're not working either way. And now get your jacket, we have to leave."

John stared at him. "I can't just go now, I have to work until four pm!" He muttered and crossed his arms. "And why do we have to leave? Can't that wait until later?"

Sherlock shook his head. "Mycrofts life is in danger, John." He whispered and looked around to make sure that no one was listening. "I assume the meeting in two days will be their target."

Without asking more questions, John told his colleagues that he wasn't feeling well and left with Sherlock.

"So what's going on?" John asked once they were on their way. "You said the meeting will be their target."

Sherlock nodded. "Many politicians in one place. The perfect goal. And it won't be well-guarded."

"How do you know that?" John raised his eyebrows.

"About the meeting? Or that it won't be guarded?" Sherlock asked and didn't wait for an answer. "The meeting is the most logical next step for them. And I doubt that they want to have the police there." He shrugged. "Believe me or not, but I just know that they'll act then."

"Maybe I should tell Mycroft about this?" John suggested, but Sherlock shook his head.

"We're going to talk to Lestrade." He said simply.

"Why Greg and not Mycroft?"

"If Mycroft would know about this, the meeting would be called off." Sherlock explained. "And then we couldn't get a hold on them."

John needed a few moments to process this. Then he grabbed Sherlock's shirt and pulled him closer. "Are you telling me that you will risk the life of my husband – your brother – and many others just to get them?!"

Sherlock looked at him silently, before he nodded. "Nothing will happen to Mycroft." He assured him. "I have a plan."

John sighed. "No." He decided. "I won't risk Mycrofts life."

"And what will we do then? Now we know where they will act. But what if the meeting will be planned anew? They could just choose to kill the people one after one. And then, Mycrofts life would be in danger as well." Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "Would you prefer that? That he gets poisoned and shot?"

John considered hitting Sherlock in the face. But wasn't he right? Would they be in danger either way? Again, he saw Mycroft lying there, lifeless and cold. "I want a proof that the meeting is their target." John said simply and crossed his arms. "Otherwise, I'll tell Mycroft." He hated hiding things from him, especially ones as important as that.

Sherlock sighed. "We're on our way to get the proof. After we talked to Lestrade."

"Fine." John agreed reluctantly.

* * *

"You want me to do _what_?" Greg asked and stared at Sherlock wide-eyed. Next to him, John also looked sceptical, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. However, he didn't say anything.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Come on, you heard me!" He muttered. "I won't repeat it."

John sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You heard him well, I suppose. At least the look on your face tells me that."

Greg turned to him. "Seriously, John? You won't say anything to this?"

He shook his head. "Nope."

Greg stared at Sherlock again. "We can't do that." He muttered. "That's insane."

"No, it isn't. And you know that. Otherwise, you would complain more loudly." Sherlock said unimpressed. "Besides, you already made your decision. You'll do it because you trust me."

"Now I know again what I didn't miss those two years." Greg whispered.

"I feel you." John said, not trying to hide his words from Sherlock. "Imagine how I feel when Mycroft's around and Sherlock won't stop insulting him."

"I don't do that!" Sherlock complained loudly.

"You told him that he looks scary without a suit. And that his diet isn't working, even if it is." John narrowed his eyes at him. "And you put salt in his tea instead of sugar!"

"That was a bloody mistake!" Sherlock threw his hands in the air. "Now enough of this!" He glared at Greg. "So you'll do it?"

Greg sighed. "Seems like I don't have a choice." He looked at John questioningly. "You trust him with this?"

John nodded slowly. "It seems completely insane, but yes. It's our best chance."

"Now tell me exactly what he should do." He gave in.

Sherlock grinned.

* * *

"Can you please tell me what we're doing here?" John asked slowly and looked around. They were in an industrial area close to the Thames. After they've talked to Greg, Sherlock had instructed their cab to take them here. John didn't have a good feeling about this, but he'd decided to trust Sherlock.

Even if he wasn't sure what game his best friend was playing. Right before their departure, Sherlock had whispered something into Gregs ear. He'd paled but nodded reluctantly. When John asked Sherlock about this, he refused to answer the question. "You'll see." Was the only thing he'd said. Then Sherlock remained silent the entire car drive.

"This is the place where the poison was sold." Sherlock explained and began to walk around. He seemed to search for something.

"Here, in the middle of nowhere." John muttered and looked around more closely as well. There were many warehouses and a few buildings in between. A very high building standing directly at the Thames caught his attention. There was light behind a few windows. Otherwise, no signs of life could be seen. Especially not at this time of the day. It was starting to get dark already. Their conversation with Greg had taken more time than expected.

"Not in the middle of nowhere." Sherlock corrected him. "Here, many foul deals are sealed." He smiled slightly. "The poison was only one of them. My contact could tell me much more things that happen here. However, they aren't important to our case." He pointed at the building that had caught Johns attention as well. "That's of interest to us."

"And how do you know that? Don't tell me that the poison was delivered here. And that the person who did it knows this society." John ran a hand through his hair. "Because that would sound like a trap."

Sherlock hesitated only for half a second, but John noticed it either way. "You can't be serious."

"It was our best shot." Sherlock shrugged. "I have a plan. Do you trust me, John?"

He sighed. "Things have been easier when you were still dead." He muttered and then he nodded. "If I wouldn't trust you, I would be at home right now. Enjoying the evening with my husband."

Sherlock smiled. "Good. Now let's go. I'm sure they're already waiting for us."

"Walking right into a trap…" John muttered and shook his head. "You're impossible."

"We don't know that it's one." Sherlock argued. "It's an assumption. A good one, but either way –" He fell silent when they got closer to the building. They didn't walk towards the entrance door, that would be too easy. And if this really was a trap, then they would run right into it. Instead, they found a small window at the back of the building, close to where it met the water. A look upwards showed them that there was an annex as well, so that part of the building was right above the river.

Thanks to Sherlock, entering the building wasn't difficult. However, the building wasn't as abandoned as it seemed. There were people walking around, most of them in silence, but others were talking. They couldn't listen to their conversations, though. Their first concern was to remain out of sight. John wasn't sure what Sherlock was looking for, but he didn't suggest turning back. If this really was a possibility to save Mycroft and other people, he wouldn't run away from it.

When Sherlock froze in front of John, he nearly ran into him. Only his good reflexes kept him from making any noises. Sherlock held a finger to his mouth, his face serious. And then John noticed what caught his attention. In front of them stood a small table. And on it were many cards, similar to the one in Alan Brightons pocket. John's heart began to race even more. Apparently, Sherlocks shady contacts had been right. Like so many times before.

He raised an eyebrow in silence, asking what to do next. There were two ways. Upstairs, or downstairs. Since they were already on the second floor, downstairs would probably lead them back to the entrance. Sherlock nodded into the direction of the stairs to the higher floors, this time his expression was questioning. When John nodded shortly, they went on.

When they heard voices, they stopped again.

"Everything is going according to plan, sir." The voice of a woman said. "The meeting will take place in the Royal Theatre, at seven in the evening. Everyone who's important will be there. Only the Prime Minister declined."

"That's disadvantageous." Another voice said, this time a man. "We will deal with him later. That shouldn't be a problem, once the others are out of the way."

"Should I give the sign that the access can be planned?" The woman asked.

"Yes, that would be great, Tina. And everything should be prepared for our guests. They've arrived some time ago."

John exchanged a look with Sherlock. To his concern, he was looking as uneasy as he felt. And there was something else in Sherlocks eyes, which John identified as fear. Great, so really a trap.

"You can come in, Mr. Holmes, Mr. Watson."

"Not good." John muttered and followed Sherlock, who'd entered the room immediately.

The man in front of them was about fifty years old, with grey hair, a short beard and dark eyes. He was tall and wore a dark red suit. He smiled widely at them. "Welcome, I am glad that you found your way here! My name is Malcolm Slade."

"An invitation would have been easier." Sherlock said simply. "But your card was also quite useful."

Slade laughed. "We didn't expect anyone to find the body. Otherwise, we would have never left the card in his pocket."

"Throwing someone into a river is not the best way to get rid off a body." Sherlock bowed his head slightly. "Next time maybe burying him?"

"Why the card then? When you don't want to take credit for your actions?" John asked, mostly to buy them more time.

"It was an invitation to him." Slade explained. "We made him an offer and he turned it down."

"And then he had to die for it?" He asked sceptically. "Doesn't sound like a nice offer."

"We wanted him to work with us."

"You wanted him to be your spy." Sherlock corrected Slade coldly. "But you found someone else, didn't you? Right after his death. Otherwise, you couldn't know about the meeting in two days. Where most politicians will be."

Slade grinned. "Yes, we found someone. But who it is shouldn't be your concern."

"Mike Schroeder." When Sherlock said the name, Slades grin faded.

"How do you know that?"

"A good guess." Sherlock said simply, but from his smile, John saw that there was something else behind it. Then he remembered that he'd talked to Brigthons friends a few days ago, and one of them was called Mike. What did he tell him? And most importantly, why didn't Sherlock tell John what he found out?

"It doesn't matter." Slade hissed. "They'll all be dead soon. And then we can finally take over."

"You think that it's that easy?" John asked, having heard many things about the British government in the past two years from Mycroft.

"It will be, Mr. Watson."

"The poison. "Sherlock threw in. "Why did you poison him, when you shot him as well?" He was moving around the room now slowly and John wondered what he was doing. Then something else came to his mind. He reached for the phone in his pocket slowly. If he could just call Mycroft, he might be able to locate them. If his phone was working here.

"The poison is a security measure. So that no one gets to know our secrets. One of our newest members shot him." Slade shrugged. "You found the poison either way."

"Wasn't difficult." Sherlock said.

Suddenly, the door opened and four men entered the room. All wearing black clothes. Tall, statue of a body builder, guns on their belts. Perfect.

"I assume you already know what will happen next?" Slade asked and raised his eyebrows.

"You'll get rid off us." Sherlock said simply.

Slade grimaced. "Not exactly. Since someone knows where you are, we had to change the plan." While saying that, he looked at John. And grinned.

Then everything went black.


	18. Chapter 18

**The next chapter! This is very short, but I hope you don't mind. The next one will be longer again, I promise. Please let me know what you think! **

**I don't own the characters or places! **

* * *

When John woke up, he had a headache. And not just that, his whole body was hurting. His neck was stiff and there was a burning feeling in his wrists. He tried to move but found that it wasn't possible. He looked around and noticed that he was in a dark room, with the look at the Thames. They seemed to be in one of the upper floors of the building.

There was something pressing against his back. Something warm, so not a wall. _Someone_, he realized. Then he remembered what happened. Someone had knocked him out. Now his hands were tied!

"Finally, you're awake!" Sherlocks voice ripped him out of his thoughts. Now John knew who was sitting behind him.

"What happened?" John asked and tried to move again.

"You missed all the fun." Sherlock said ironically. "You took much longer to wake up than myself. Most probably because you were hit on the head pretty hard."

"Sherlock." John growled, not in the mood for his long talks. He could literally feel Sherlock rolling his eyes.

"We were both knocked out, tied together and when I woke up, Slade told me about his diabolical plan. They will poison everyone at the meeting in two days, they were able to get a few of their people in. Masked, of course. Slade will be among them, I assume. He sounded really excited when he told me about stabbing Mycroft with a knife."

At those words, John stiffened. "We need to get out of here." He said and tried to free his hands again. However, the rope didn't move.

"You didn't hear the most important part." Sherlock continued without reacting to his words. "You called Mycroft and he was able to locate us."

"I did." John agreed. "And Slade seemed to know that."

"That's why they changed their plan. There's a bomb in this building. And it will explode in about five minutes from now. Maybe even earlier. Before any of Mycrofts people can arrive to get us out of here." Johns heart sank.

"So this is the end?" He asked slowly, not wanting to think of it. "I assume you also have a plan to get us out of here? We have to help Mycroft." Again, John tried to free his hands. He had to get out of here. Mycroft needed to know about their plan.

"This won't work, John." Sherlock muttered. Nevertheless, John continued trying to get free.

"If you would stop this, I could do something!" Sherlock shouted now, making him freeze. "Thanks." Sherlock muttered and then John felt Sherlocks hands move. There was something cold at his wrist and John flinched.

"What are you doing?" He asked. The question was answered when suddenly, their hands were free. Johns hands tingled when the blood was able to flow through them again. Sherlock stood up immediately, but John remained sitting. When he looked up, he saw a small object in Sherlocks hand.

Sherlock grinned. "Luckily, I was able to get this." The object was a small nail. With it, Sherlock had been able to cut through the rope. Then he held out his hands to help John to his feet. For half a second, he thought that there was worry in Sherlocks eyes, but it vanished quickly.

They both went towards the doors of the room, trying to find a way out. However, the door to the stairwell was locked, just as the other one, which probably led to even more rooms. John also tried it with force, but the lock wouldn't give in. The only result was that his head was spinning even more after trying.

Even Sherlock wasn't able to kick in a door. So what where they doing to do now?

Their phones were gone, just as everything else they'd been carrying in their pockets.

"I hope you have an idea what we're going to do now." John muttered and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he saw that Sherlock looked at him with narrowed eyes. "I do. But you won't like it."

Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed Johns hand and pulled him towards the windows. Which were right above the Thames.

Then the building exploded.

* * *

"Everything will work out fine. Though the Prime Minister won't be able to attend the meeting. He has an appointment with the Queen." Mycroft finished his speech. It was in the afternoon and the day at work had been very long. And exhausting. They had done the last steps at planning the meeting in two days. Well, more talking about it again since everything had been planned weeks ago.

Mycroft looked around in the small conference room to see if anyone still had questions. He hoped not, but most of the time, there was someone who didn't pay attention at some point. And yes, he could see it in the eyes of one of his employees. Nevertheless, the man didn't ask a question.

Normally, Mycroft would have mentioned this, but not today. He wanted to go home. Where John would most probably be waiting for him if Sherlock didn't take him on a case again. Like he did on a regular basis since his return.

Mycroft didn't want to be annoyed by this, but he couldn't help it. Of course he was happy for John that Sherlock was finally back, but ever since the return of his brother, their time seemed to be limited. John visited Baker Street a few times a week and he went on cases with Sherlock. Time he would have spent with Mycroft otherwise.

He would never mention this to John, he loved to see his husband happy. And Sherlocks return made him happy. And going on cases with him as well, the excitement in Johns eyes couldn't be missed. Honestly, Mycroft had missed that in the past years. The part of John Watson that went on cases with Sherlock Holmes, solving riddles and stopping criminals. The part of John that was annoyed by Sherlock and laughed about it in the end. The really, completely _carefree_ part of John, which had seemed to die with his brother.

"Sir?" A voice ripped him out of his thoughts. Mycroft looked up to see Anthea standing in front of him. "There is something you might want to see." She explained.

She avoided to look into his eyes and smiled a little more forced than usual. And the made small abrupt movements which weren't normal for her. "What's going on?" Mycroft asked slowly and narrowed his eyes. "You are nervous."

Instead of answering, she gestured for him to follow her. Which he did. They were heading to his office and Mycroft wondered why Anthea wanted to talk to him in private.

He got the answer as soon as they were alone. "Your brother showed up at Johns work today. At midday, to be more exact." Anthea started the conversation. Mycroft raised his eyebrows in silence, wondering where this would be heading. Normally, Sherlock only visited John after work to go on a case with him. So what happened today?

"They left together, John said that he was feeling ill." Anthea continued, which made Mycroft suspicious. That didn't sound like John at all. "It seems like your brother has been in different parts of the city before he went to see John." She pointed at a few places on the map. "I couldn't find a connection."

What Mycroft saw didn't help to calm his nerves. And suddenly, the uneasy feeling of the past days was back. The feeling that something was going to happen to John. "Some of Sherlocks contacts use to be at those places." He said in the end. "His homeless network." However, two places were a riddle to him. He wondered why Sherlock would visit an industrial area at the outskirts of London.

"Whatever he was doing there, he never stayed in one place for too long." Anthea continued. "Together with John, they went to Scotland Yard and talked to DI Lestrade."

"And why should I be concerned about this?" Mycroft asked. "John and Sherlock go on cases nearly every day. And I'm sure that there's an explanation to why he left work earlier today." Did he try to convince her or himself?

"You told me to have an eye on him while you're working. And that's what I'm doing." Anthea was still looking serious. "The last thing we know is that they left NSY and headed for an area close to the Thames. Before they arrived there, both John and your brother turned off their phones, so we weren't able to locate them anymore."

"Cameras?" Mycroft asked and his mind was racing. Sherlock had been busy in the city for days, talking to all the people he knew. Someone was looking up a strange kind of poison for them, which had killed Alan Brighton. The body had been thrown into the river Thames, where no one had seen it. They were heading to an industrial area close to said river.

"No, not there." He barely heard her answer and what she said after that.

"We need to find them. Immediately!" Mycroft interrupted her loudly and in a sharp tone.

"That's what we were trying for the past hour, Sir." Anthea explained again and together, they headed for the room where their technicians were working. "Do you fear that something might happen to them?"

"Unfortunately, yes." He didn't have time to explain everything. The technicians explained the last movements of John and Sherlock that they could see. However, there were many places they could have been headed to. "Find the cab they were using." Mycroft ordered. "And talk to the driver."

It turned out that it wasn't necessary anymore when Mycrofts phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket quickly and his heart began to beat faster when he saw the name on the display. _John_.

"John, where are you? Are you alright?" He asked when he answered the call and gestured for the others to locate the signal. The technicians understood what he wanted immediately.

There was no answer and too soon, the call ended again. The only thing Mycroft heard was some kind of rushing sound.

He turned to the others. "Where are they?" He demanded to know.

"A building at the outskirts of London. Industrial area right at the Thames." A man answered his question.

"How long will it take us to go there?"

"Thirty to forty minutes, depending on the traffic."

That was too long. He exchanged a look with Anthea and together, they ran to the car. On their way, Mycroft ordered Anthea to call in reinforcements. She didn't protest, even though they didn't really know that John and Sherlock were in danger. Nevertheless, they both couldn't shake off the dark feeling that something was going to happen.

The whole drive, Mycroft tried to call John again. However, his phone was turned off, not even the voicemail answered. And Sherlock couldn't be reached as well.

The drive to the industrial area, which took them thirty-five minutes, felt like the longest in Mycrofts entire life. They were accompanied by a few cars of the local police since they had been the ones closest to the location. The police officers insisted that Mycroft and Anthea stayed in the car while they investigated the building, but they both ignored them.

It was very dark since there weren't many lanterns in the area. The house where they'd located the signal was lying still in front of them. No lights behind the windows and no people to be see. They seemed to be alone.

The police officers walked towards the building slowly, weapons in their hands. The first ones had nearly reached the building when there was a beeping sound. And then the building in front of them exploded.


	19. Chapter 19

**The next chapter! We're getting closer to the end of this story, I fear. I think there will be two or three more chapters after this. Please let me know what you think of this chapter! And thanks to everyone who's reading this story. **

**I thought of writing another Sherlock story after this one. Next time most probably Johnlock. **

**I don't own the characters or places! **

* * *

The water of the river Thames was dark. There were small waves which reflected the moonlight. Somehow, it was a peaceful sight. Whatever happened, the river kept flowing, going on and on. Just like time did.

All around him, the world seemed to be breaking down. He barely registered the sound of firemen shouting at each other, trying to prevent the rest of the building from breaking down. Not that there was much left anyway. And then there were police officers running around, trying to find out if people had been in the building. Next to the two who'd been in there for sure.

Mycroft wondered if this was what real pain felt like. The emptiness in his chest where his heart had been mere hours ago. The urge to cry, even if he would never give in to that. At least not when others were around.

For the first time in his life, he didn't know what to do.

He thought of the last time he'd seen John, just this morning. He'd been laughing about something Mycroft said, and there had been this brilliant smile on his lips. John had kissed him, pulling at his tie. Mycroft had to leave for work, but John had just ignored it and kept kissing him. When they finally parted, John had told him not to work too long hours. After all, they wanted to spend a nice evening together.

He'd seen Sherlock a few days ago at Baker Street, just returning from a case. They'd argued again, like most of the times when Mycroft was around. Sherlock still didn't like the fact that John was with his older brother now. Of course the fight had ended as soon as John arrived. Sherlock hid his grudge against Mycroft very well in front of John. Mycroft knew that he didn't want to hurt him. He'd always known that John was the most important person in his brother's life and that didn't change just because John was married now.

When there was a loud crash behind him, Mycroft turned around slowly. His heart sank when he saw that the rest of the building had collapsed as well. He grabbed his umbrella tighter, wishing that they'd arrived earlier. Just five minutes and everything could have been different.

Suddenly, Mycroft knew what he was going to do now, even if it would be his last action. He would find those who did this. And they would pay.

"Sir?" Anthea's hesitant voice ripped him out of his voice. "Are you alright?"

"Of course." He answered automatically, his voice sounding hollow. He met her worried gaze and sighed.

"Maybe you should go home." She suggested hesitantly.

He raised his eyebrows. "And why should I consider doing that?" Nothing would wait for him there. It would only worsen the pain. "No, Anthea. We have lots of work to do. My brother and –" He stopped and cleared his throat to hide the wave of emotions that hit him again "They suspected that the meeting in two days will be the target. We need to make preparations."

Anthea nodded slowly. "And what do you have in mind?"

He gestured for her to follow him to the car.

* * *

Water. Dark, cold water. It was everywhere around him, making him unable to move. He felt like he was drowning, which he probably was. He tried to reach the surface, but the flow of the river was too strong, dragging him along.

Suddenly, he felt something at his arm. It felt like someone was gripping him tightly. And pulling him somewhere.

John inhaled sharply when he finally broke through the surface. The air seemed even colder than the water, but he didn't care. He was gasping for breath and looked around, trying to find out where he was.

Next to him, he saw Sherlock, also breathing heavily. He'd been the one who grabbed John's arm. "John." Sherlock muttered through heavy breaths. "Are you alright?"

"No!" John shouted, having trouble at keeping him up. "The shore!" He pointed to the left and together, they swam.

When they finally reached solid ground, John sank down to his knees and began to cough loudly. He'd inhaled lots of water. When he finally looked up, he saw Sherlock sitting next to him, looking completely exhausted. John ran a hand through his hair and tried to ignore that he was feeling cold.

"What the hell was that?" He shouted and looked at Sherlock angrily.

Of course he looked annoyed. "I saved our lives! So a 'thank you' would be nice!" Sherlock shouted back at him.

"We jumped into the bloody river and nearly drowned! From the fifth floor of an exploding building! That doesn't sound safe!"

"But we're still alive!" Sherlock argued. "If we wouldn't have done it, we'd be dead for sure! And how the hell should I explain that to Mycroft?"

When he realized what he just said, Sherlock's eyes widened. John also stared at him silently for a few moments before he started to laugh loudly. Sherlock joined him quickly.

John didn't know how long they were sitting there in the darkness, completely wet and laughing, but he didn't care. When they finally stopped, he stood up slowly. "Let's not do that again!" He looked around slowly, trying to find out where they were. In the far distance, he could see a light. But they were too far away from the city to see that, weren't they? Then it hit him. "Sherlock."

Sherlock stood up slowly and walked to John. He noticed that Sherlock was limping slightly. "It's nothing." Sherlock said when he noticed John's look. Then he also looked into the distance. "We would have been dead definitely."

"I'll have a look at your leg once we're somewhere else." John decided and raised his eyebrows. "Any idea where we are? And how we can get away from here?"

Sherlock frowned, but then he nodded. "There should be a street in that direction." He pointed it out and they began to walk there. However, they were slow since Sherlock was limping again and it got stronger the longer they were walking. Without saying anything, Johns stepped next to him to support him. Sherlock's lips twitched and John smiled back at him.

When they finally reached the street, they had to wait again. Apparently, not many cars came this way at night. They sat down on a barrier next to the street. By now, they were both freezing terribly. John could tell that Sherlock was tired, even if he would never admit it. And he was feeling dizzy himself.

"What's the plan?" He asked to distract himself.

"We need dry clothes. And a place to sleep." Sherlock stated, as if it was obvious.

John raised his eyebrows at him. "We're not going back to Baker Street?" He feared that by now, Mycroft might have figured out what happened. And most probably, he was worried for them. If he didn't even think the worst.

Sherlock shook his head. "We're officially dead now. We must use that to our advantage."

John stared at him. "I thought being dead wouldn't be a new habit of yours?"

He rolled his eyes. "The Society of the Rose told us about their plan. And they think that we're dead. This is our bets chance to stop them, John."

"You want to let everyone think that we're _dead_?" John asked loudly. He couldn't believe that Sherlock really wanted to do this again, even if it would be for only two days. A small voice in his head told him that this was a brilliant plan to save Mycroft and so many others, but John didn't really listen to it.

"Exactly." Sherlock sighed. "Why does no one drive on this road?" He stood up and began to move his legs. "It's cold!"

John shook his head. "I won't let Mycroft think that we're dead. And what about Greg? And Mrs. Hudson?"

"One and a half day, John. That's not so much time, after all." Sherlock growled. "You will live through it. And I bet the others will stand it as well." He paused and the thoughtful look on his face made John suspicious.

"What is it? I know that look. There's something you're not telling me." He raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms.

"Lestrade might know that there could be… complications." Sherlock said hesitantly. "I might have feared that our trip could end badly. Or that it could look like that, at least."

John stared at him wide-eyed. "What did you tell Greg?" He demanded to know.

"Only that he should stick to the plan, no matter what happens. Even if we're declared dead, he and his team should be at the theatre when the meeting takes place."

"And Greg promised to do this?" John already knew that he did. Greg trusted Sherlock.

"Of course. Lestrade said that I am crazy, but he will do what we asked him to. No matter what happens." Sherlock smiled now. "He trusts us."

"Us?" John asked sceptically.

Sherlock nodded. "We're a team. What would Sherlock Holmes be without Doctor Watson?"

John hesitated. "You will not let me tell Mycroft that we're alright." It wasn't a question.

"When they see him at the meeting, with the knowledge that we're dead, and he doesn't look completely devastated or at least a little tired, they will know that something's wrong." Sherlock explained. "I bet Slade is also good at deductions."

"Mycroft is a good actor." John threw in.

"No, he isn't." Sherlock muttered. "You should have seen him in our youth, he was always terrible. And he still is, you're just too much in love with him to notice."

"And you really think that we'll get them?" He asked thoughtfully. Was Sherlock right and they would get to know that they were alive before the meeting? And if they did, wouldn't Mycroft and all the others be in even more danger? Honestly, he hated the idea to make everyone believe that they were dead, even if it was only for two days. He didn't want to break Mycroft's heart. Even the thought of it made him sick.

"We will." Sherlock sounded confident.

In the end, John didn't know what made him agree to that stupid plan. The confidence in Sherlock's voice, his promise that it would work or the fact that he could save Mycroft. Or maybe, just maybe he was just tired.

Finally, they saw headlights shining in the distance.

* * *

They spent the night at the small flat of someone who still owed Sherlock a favour. Her name was Layla and she was very nice. She didn't ask any questions and they were glad about that. She had a guest room with two beds and after a shower, they were both feeling better. Layla even had clothes for men in her flat, she said that they were from her ex. In that moment, John really didn't care. He was too tired for that. He didn't even laugh at Sherlock since the pants were far too short for him.

Before they fell asleep, John had a look at the injury at Sherlock's leg. Luckily, the cut wasn't deep. Layla had all the supplies John needed to take care of the wound. Next to that, they both were fine.

The next morning, they made Layla promise not to tell anyone that they were alive. She seemed to owe Sherlock very much since she agreed without complaining. She even promised to get them everything they needed for their plan the next day. Which left John and Sherlock with nothing to do.

To both of them, the waiting was the worst part of the plan. The entire day, John and Sherlock were restless. John didn't like the plan and tried to persuade Sherlock that they should call Mycroft, but Sherlock insisted that he was being stupid. In the end, they argued many times, but Sherlock won. John didn't contact anyone at all.

They didn't use Layla's tv, even if she'd told them that it was alright. Sherlock rarely did that and John didn't want to see the news. However, Layla showed them a paper when she returned in the evening. '_Explosion in industrial area close to the Thames_' the first headline said. John read the article and was relieved to see that their names weren't mentioned. It only said that at least two people were in the building when it collapsed.

After that long day, the time passed quickly. The morning of the meeting, John and Sherlock had to disguise themselves. They would dress up so that they looked like two politicians. Apparently, Sherlock had chosen the people they would turn into a few days ago. He searched for pictures of them on the internet. John was surprised to see that they really looked kind of similar to Sherlock and himself. Well, as much as you could hope for on an occasion like this. And they were both not from London, which meant that Mycroft didn't know them. According to Sherlock, that reduced the risk that he would recognize them immediately.

John would turn into someone called Timothy Gould. Small, red hair, a beard, thick black glasses. He seemed to be a strange person. He never seemed to leave his house without his top-hat or the richly decorated walking stick. The walking stick was tricky. They would have to use the one of the real Timothy Gould once they numbed him in the afternoon.

For himself, Sherlock had chosen William Anderson. He was tall, with blond hair, freckles and a moustache. The man seemed to like coloured suits and gloves. John thought he looked ridiculous.

They left when Layla was still at work. John was glad about it, he was sure that she would have laughed at them.

Finding the real Timothy Gould and William Anderson wasn't as easy as Sherlock imagined. In the end, they had to lure Gould into a dark alley and John knocked Anderson out from behind. They tied them up and hid them in a small abandoned shop close to the theatre. While doing that, John made a mental note to get them out when everything was done.

"How do I look?" John asked, swinging his walking stick. He touched the cylinder on his head to make sure that it was in place.

"Shall I be honest?" Sherlock asked and frowned at him with a small smile on his lips. "You look ridiculous."

"Says the one with the freckles and the moustache." John muttered.

Except for John's hat, they were both clad in black suits. They had chosen them to remain as inconspicuous as possible in the crowd. They looked at each other seriously and John tried to stop his racing heart. Soon, he would see Mycroft again.

Mycroft, who'd surely suffered the past days, thinking that John and Sherlock were dead.

John wouldn't be able to talk to him, but maybe he could catch a glance from the distance.

"Don't let them distract you." Sherlock said now and John knew that he meant Mycroft.

"I won't." John promised. He was determined to make their plan work. "And you've got the phone and Greg's number?" They'd seen Greg and his team some time ago, while they were watching the streets around the theatre secretly.

As an answer, Sherlock held up the phone.

"We will stay together as long as possible." John reminded Sherlock. "And if you have any stupid ideas, forget them." He warned his best friend.

Sherlock sighed. "You know that I would never do something stupid, John."

Instead of answering, John began to walk towards the theatre.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20! And we're getting closer to the end of this story! I fear that there's only one chapter left. Please let me know what you think! And thanks to everyone who reads this story! The reviews always make me very happy! **

**In the past days, I've been thinking about writing a sequel to this. If you'd be interested, let me know!**

**I don't own the characters or places! **

* * *

They moved through the crowd slowly, trying not to be noticed by anyone who might know them. First, it worked pretty well. There were a few people who greeted them, but not more. The entire time, John tried to memorize his name, just in case someone might speak to him. And he hoped that he could remember the few things he'd read about Timothy Gould's political attitude. If the attack took place before the main part of the meeting, those things wouldn't even be necessary. But they could never be sure.

If the attack really took place within the meeting or even after that, there was also another problem. The risk that Mycroft might recognize them would be getting much higher. Unfortunately, they didn't have a plan then. They could only hope that Mycroft wouldn't give away their disguise.

"Can you see anything?" John whispered when he and Sherlock arrived in a corner of the room. The entrance hall of the theatre was very big, John couldn't even estimate how many people would fit in there. He thought that Mycroft had said something about two hundred that were invited to the meeting, but he wasn't so sure. At the end of the room, there were stairs that led to a gallery. Upstairs, they could also see people, which made it even more difficult to find anyone.

"Not yet." Sherlock muttered. His eyes were scanning the crowd restlessly. "If they're as good as we suspect, it won't be easy to see through their disguise."

"Then we should look for odd behaviour." John, who was now also looking at the people around them, suggested. "Sudden gestures often come with a nervous feeling."

"Good." Sherlock sounded impressed, even if he wasn't looking at John. "How did you learn that?"

The first time John noticed this was when Mycroft was nervous. But he would never tell Sherlock that, so he decided to ignore the question.

"Tim!" A voice close to them shouted and it took John a moment to realize that he was meant. "Timothy!" A tall woman in a blue dress was walking towards them, smiling widely. "And Will!"

When Sherlock didn't react to the name and kept looking at the crowd, John nudged him with the elbow. "She means you, William." He hissed quietly.

Sherlock turned abruptly and smiled widely. Luckily, the woman didn't notice their short interaction. "It's lovely to see you!" The woman continued and stopped in front of them. She had blond hair and brown eyes. After a few seconds, John recognized her. Right now, he was glad that Mycroft talked about politics so much.

"Evelin, how are you?" Her name was Evelin Ross and Mycroft hated her. Apparently, she liked to cross his plans.

"I told you that it's Eve a long time ago, but you still call me by my full name." She rolled her eyes. "Our dear Tim is always too formal, don't you think so?" She raised her eyebrows at Sherlock.

He nodded immediately. "Of course he is, but he won't listen to anyone."

Eve laughed. "And you're still wearing that hat." She looked at John thoughtfully and he really hoped that she wouldn't notice that he wasn't the real Timothy Gould. "You said you wanted to get rid off that walking stick ages ago." She sounded reproachful and John couldn't stop himself from laughing. Of course not because of the walking stick, but because she really thought that he was Timothy.

"He loves that stick." Sherlock threw in dryly.

"I've noticed." Now Eve didn't sound as confident anymore. The next five minutes, she told them lots of stories about her work. She wouldn't stop complaining about the Prime Minister and his new ideas. Somehow, John thought that she would fit into the Society of the Rose pretty well. When he glanced at Sherlock, he noticed that his friend seemed to think so too. There was a suspicious look in his eyes, which were slightly narrowed.

Slowly, John was starting to feel uneasy. They needed to move and have a look at the other people. Standing here and listening to stories only cost them time. Suddenly, a group of people close to them started to whisper to each other hectically. They kept looking towards the entrance of the building.

Eve stopped her story and looked around. When she turned around as well, she sighed deeply. "Seems like the sharks have arrived." It sounded playful, but John could hear the annoyance in her voice.

Next to him, Sherlock had stiffened. John followed his gaze, just to freeze as well. The person who just entered the theatre was no other than Mycroft Holmes, followed by Anthea and a few more people. John thought he recognized one of them as the head of Mycroft's security staff.

Mycroft was wearing a black suit with a black tie. Even from the distance John noticed that he was looking tired, he thought that he could see dark circles under his husband's eyes. Even if they were inside a building, Mycroft was carrying his umbrella. He was scanning the crowd with a neutral look on his face, but John knew him well enough to see the anger in his posture. Next to him, Anthea was wearing a simple black dress. Somehow, this bothered John.

In this moment, he wanted nothing more than to run to Mycroft and tell him that they were alright. However, John knew that it wasn't possible. They had to find Slade and his companions first. Sherlock suspected that they wanted to poison the drinks, so they would look there first. All the waiters came from upstairs.

To his surprise, Mycroft walked through the crowd in their direction. John exchanged a look with Sherlock, who gestured towards the stairs. They excused themselves to Eve shortly and began to move.

Once they reached the gallery, they had a better view of everything that happened. Upstairs, a few small groups of people had gathered. Mostly those who didn't like the noise downstairs, John suspected.

"We have to keep an eye on Mycroft." John whispered and searched for him among the people. "He's their main target."

"Everyone here." Sherlock corrected him. "But you're right, Slade wants to kill him personally. However, I can't see anyone who looks like him down there."

"Me neither." John muttered darkly. "If something would happen now, we'd be too far away."

"You can't get too close either." Sherlock threw in. "He might recognize you."

"But closer than this." John argued.

"We have to find the others. Let's walk around." He didn't wait for John's reply. John didn't have a choice and followed him.

When they had rounded the gallery, Sherlock shook his head. "We have to split up." He decided. "You search down there, while I'll look up here."

"And if we find something? How can we get each other's attention?" John raised his eyebrows. "It's far too loud in here."

"I'm sure we'll figure something out." Sherlock said simply. "And now go, we've got only twenty minutes left before the meeting starts."

John wasn't even sure what he was looking for when he walked around again. There were far too many people and no one seemed to be suspicious. Of course there were a few who looked around every few seconds, but whatever they were talking about, it didn't seem to be an attack. Soon, John realized that he was walking towards Mycroft again.

A few people recognized him and tried to start a conversation, but John always left before they could really talk to him. Sherlock had chosen their identities well, Timothy Gould didn't seem to have many friends among the other politicians.

When ten minutes passed without anything suspicious, John was getting nervous. He'd been so sure that something would happen before the meeting started. He was standing close to Mycroft now, who had his back turned to him. He was talking to a group of men, however John recognized none of them. John was leaning against a wall. This seemed the best position to him, after all, no one could surprise him from behind.

Suddenly, someone ran into him. It was a small woman with red cheeks. She apologized many times before she left again. In the crowd, she ran into another man and John wondered if she already had a drink too much. Then the man who'd stumbled looked up, directly in John's direction.

His heart stopped when he recognized who was standing there, only a few metres away from him. Slade's hair was black now instead of grey, but otherwise, he didn't change his appearance. He was wearing a grey suit with a red shirt and he was holding something in his hand. John stiffened and got ready to run towards him.

However, Slade only took two steps towards Mycroft, when something else happened.

Someone screamed and John was sure that it had been upstairs. The scream seemed to get everyone's attention since the sound of the conversations subsided. The people started to whisper to each other now and John could literally feel the shift of mood in the room. Suddenly, there was this nervous tension in the air.

Everywhere around him, people were looking around, trying to find the source of the noise. John saw Mycroft's bodyguard disappear in the crowd, towards the stairs. He cursed and tried to walk towards Mycroft.

And then there was another scream, but this time it sounded more like a battle cry. From a man. John knew that voice.

Somehow, John wasn't surprised when two people broke through the handrail of the gallery and jumped right into the crowd. It looked like they were struggling with each other. Now everywhere people were screaming and began to leave the theatre panic-struck.

The two men stumbled to their feet and began to wrestle with each other again. Sherlock's wig was still in place and John was glad about that. However, he couldn't pay attention to them any longer. He just hoped that Sherlock had already contacted Greg and his team. If there were more of Slade's companions in here, they really needed help.

Slade had looked at the scene in the middle of the room too, but now he was heading towards Mycroft again. He didn't try to hide the knife in his hand anymore.

Without thinking about it, John began to run through the crowd as fast as possible. In this moment, he feared that he was already too late. Slade was already so close to Mycroft, and he was still focused on the two fighting men. Just like everyone else.

Suddenly, the walking stick didn't seem so stupid to him anymore. Just before he reached Slade and Mycroft, John swung the stick. This time, he was glad that it was made of metal instead of wood. Since he didn't want to hit anyone else, John couldn't swing that far. That's why the stick only hit Slade's shoulder instead of the head John had aimed for. Nevertheless, it had the wanted effect. The knife fell to the ground and Slade turned around hectically to see who'd attacked him.

When his eyes landed on John, a confused look appeared on his face. Most probably, he didn't recognize him with the hat, the beard, the red hair and the glasses. But then Slade's eyes widened and John wasn't so sure anymore.

From the corner of his eyes, John saw that Mycroft and Anthea were focused on them now. Mycroft was holding his umbrella tightly, while Anthea yelled at someone close to them.

John didn't have the time to look at them any further since Slade wanted to throw himself at the knife on the ground. He blocked his way quickly, trying to hit him with the walking stick again. However, Slade had learned his lesson and dodged away quickly. Slade kicked at John's legs and made him stumble. He used the stick so he wouldn't fall to the ground.

This short distraction had given Slade the time to get the knife again. He was grinning now, but John didn't give him any time to react. He lunged forward and grabbed the arm that was holding the knife. With the other hand, he thrust the walking stick right into Slade's stomach. There was a sharp pain in John's arm when Slade moved out of his grip fast. Apparently, the pain didn't hinder him in his movements.

After the ache in his arm, John felt another sharp pain on his chest. He stumbled back and saw that the knife was red. He knew that the knife had cut into his skin, but he didn't have the time to look at the injury now. Hopefully, he didn't hit something important. The pain in his chest made it more difficult to swing the walking stick.

Behind him, John heard screams again. He prayed that Sherlock was alright and that Greg arrived, but he also couldn't turn around.

"Just go away, boy. I don't want you." Slade said now, voice loud and clear. "You can leave this place anytime."

While Slade spoke, John noticed that most people had left the theatre. The only sounds that could be heard were those of fighting. And it seemed like many people were struggling with each other, so Sherlock had signalled Greg to come in. Anthea and Mycroft were also trying to bring down someone. Most probably Slade's backup plan if he didn't get to him in time.

"I know what you want. And you can't get him." John growled and grabbed the stick tighter. He looked at Slade closely and tried to figure out his next movement. The last two times he'd attacked John in the same way.

This time, Slade laughed. "You're injured. I can deal with you easily."

"No, you won't." John muttered and ran to Slade again. The glasses and the hat have already fallen to the ground when Slade hat hit him with the knife, and now John felt that his beard had loosened as well. Slade wanted to dodge again, but this time John saw it coming. He dropped to his knees in front of him and swung the walking stick. Thanks to the smooth floor John was sliding towards Slade on his knees when he hit him again. His time, he'd aimed for the legs.

As soon as Slade fell with a surprised gasp, John grabbed the stick with both hands and aimed at Slade's head. He fell to the ground unconscious.

For half a second, John just sat there, gasping. The pain in his chest was getting stronger and when he looked down, he saw that his shirt was red. He stood up slowly, using the walking stick for help.

When he turned around, he saw that most others were still struggling with someone. Mycroft and Anthea were bringing a man to his knees, he saw people from Greg's team, and then there was Greg himself, trying to bring the last politicians outside safely. But where was Sherlock?

The answer came to John when he heard a scream. Mycroft seemed to hear it too since he let Anthea do the rest and turned around quickly. Again, John didn't have time to look at his husband. He was already running towards the source of the noise.

"Sherlock!" He shouted, not caring if someone might identify his voice.

John ran through the large room as fast as possible, jumping over tables that were lying on the ground and trying not to collide with others. When he finally saw Sherlock and the other man, he tried to be even faster.

Sherlock was on his knees and the other person was pointing his gun at him. John barely realized that Sherlock was talking when he threw himself at the other man with a cry, the walking stick firmly in hand. When he hit the ground, John was breathless for a moment. Apparently, his injury was worse than he thought. The other man hit him in the stomach and John coughed. However, he was able to defend himself with the stick in his hands.

He was able to get the other man off of himself and came to his knees shakily. He barely noticed that the red wig was lying on the ground next to him. "John!" Sherlock shouted, which made him see the gun on the ground only a few feet next to him.

He crawled towards it quickly, trying to get it first. But when he realized that he wasn't fast enough, something else came to his mind. "Sherlock, Chinese Cranes!" It's been years since they last used that trick and John really hoped that Sherlock would remember.

Ignoring his doubts, John grabbed the walking stick tightly and threw it into the air. He already feared that it would just fall to the ground, but then Sherlock was there. He grabbed the stick mid-air and turned with it. He'd aimed directly at the man's chest and the force of the blow made him fall to the ground motionlessly.

For a few moments, John and Sherlock stared at each other silently. The walking stick fell to the ground with a clank and Sherlock held out his hands to John.

"Didn't think you'd remember that." John muttered and Sherlock smiled slightly. However, there was concern in his eyes. John noticed that he was looking like himself again. Well, except for the moustache.

"You're injured." He muttered and looked at John's chest.

"Just a scratch." John waved it off.

Sherlock touched the wound carefully. "You've been lucky. It already stopped bleeding. And the cut doesn't seem too deep." Sherlock said after a few seconds. Did John just imagine it or was he looking relieved?

"John?"

The sound of _his_ voice nearly made his heart stop beating. Slowly, John turned around to look at Mycroft.

He stood in front of them, the umbrella still in his hand. However, it was shaking. His eyes were wide and the shock on his face was obvious. This time, John could also take in the dark rings under his eyes and that he was paler than usual.

"Hello Mycroft." John felt a small smile appear on his lips.

"John." Mycroft said again and took a step towards him. "You're injured."

"He's fine." Sherlock's voice interrupted their private moment. "Just a scratch." When John glanced at Sherlock he saw the gleam in his eyes. "There's Lestrade!" Sherlock said suddenly and walked away, giving them some privacy.

John smiled when he turned to Mycroft again. "I'm fine, really."

"I thought you were –" Mycroft didn't finish his sentence and suddenly, he closed the distance between John and himself. Mycroft didn't seem to care that John would ruin his suit with his blood as well, so John just wrapped his arms around his husband and kissed him.

When they parted, John could see tears streaming down Mycroft's cheeks. "You're alive." Mycroft's voice was barely a whisper and he was breathing heavily now. "You're both alive."

"Yes, and I'm never going to leave you again." John whispered when Mycroft buried his face on his shoulder. "I love you."

"I love you too, John. More than anything."

John couldn't tell how long they just stood there like this, when Greg and Sherlock joined them. They would have to deal with the Society of the Rose and there was an ambulance outside waiting for John. Luckily, the injury was just a scratch and he didn't lose that much blood. He didn't even need to go to the hospital. John also doubted that Mycroft would have let him go. He didn't leave John's side the entire time.

They spent the night together at Baker Street, the first time since Sherlock came back. The next day, Mycroft would have to deal with Slade and his companions, but that evening, they didn't talk about it anymore.

They fell asleep in each other's arms, happy to be together again.

That night, Mycroft had a nightmare. He woke up, crying and screaming John's name. He held him the entire time while he was crying, whispering small words of comfort.

To their surprise, Sherlock never said anything about that night. If he'd heard Mycroft's screams, he kept it to himself.


	21. Chapter 21

**I can't believe that this is the last chapter of this story! I really enjoyed writing it and I hope you liked it too! As always, let me know what you think! Thanks to everyone who followed this! **

**I'm thinking of writing a sequel to this, but I'm not quite sure if I'll write that or a Johnlock story first. Somehow, I want to do both! But two stories at a time are too much. I really like both pairings, so it'll be difficult to decide. Any preferences? **

**I don't own the characters or places! **

* * *

"No, that's not possible and you know it." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "The neighbour can't be the murderer, he was in Italy by that time."

Greg stared at him, while John raised his eyebrows sceptically. "And how do you know that?" John asked when he noticed that Greg wouldn't say anything else. It was Sunday morning and Greg had shown up at 221 B with a new case. Just that Sherlock had to solve this one alone, John had to leave soon. He wanted to spend the day with Mycroft. John just didn't want to leave Greg alone with Sherlock since his best friend wasn't in a very good mood. Most probably because he didn't have a case for nearly a week.

"Oh come on, John! It's easy!" Sherlock muttered and crossed his arms. "Apparently, Lestrade and his team didn't do their research properly."

Greg sighed. "Alright, don't explain how you know that the neighbour wasn't there." He decided. "Just tell me where to start then."

Sherlock started to explain everything to Greg, whose eyes widened while he listened, but John didn't pay attention to them. His phone had vibrated in his pocket.

**Will be there in ten minutes. Walk on the lake and a cup of tea before we head home for dinner? **– MH

John smiled when he thought of a day outside with Mycroft. He replied quickly.

**Sounds great. See you soon.** – JW

He ignored Sherlock's confused expression when he stood up to get his jacket. "I'll leave you two alone now. Don't annoy each other to death, please."

Sherlock held up his hands. "It's not my fault when Lestrade doesn't understand the things I say!"

John shook his head and smiled slightly when Greg rolled his eyes. "Don't start complaining." He pointed at Sherlock. "There will be a party in three days and you're both invited. We would be very happy if you both come uninjured."

Sherlock frowned. "A party? Why is there a party?"

Now John and Greg exchanged a look. "The first anniversary of their marriage?" Greg asked and looked at Sherlock questioningly. "The party we've been planning for weeks now? You even helped us to choose the date."

Sherlock still didn't seem to know what they were talking about. "The day the old lady nearly fainted when you opened the door in your bathrobe." John added, but there wasn't a reaction. "When Mycroft was here for dinner."

That seemed to do it since Sherlock groaned. "Don't mention that evening. It was horrible. One of the ten worst evenings in my entire life."

"It wasn't that bad." John complained. "You even said you liked the food."

"To make you happy." Sherlock muttered and shook his head. "Don't say anything else, John. Now go, Mycroft will be waiting and I don't want him to come up here. Besides, Lestrade and I will have to leave as well. We'll need to look at the garden shed."

Greg frowned. "As far as we know, he doesn't have one."

"He does!" Sherlock argued. "Your research is horrible this time, Lestrade. Even worse than before." He stood up to get his coat.

"Good luck." John whispered to Greg, who smiled slightly. "I'll see you tomorrow, Sherlock. if something happens, you can call me!"

"Yes, yes. Bye, John. And don't greet Mycroft from me!"

"I won't!" John replied before he left the flat.

Downstairs, he met Mrs. Hudson. "He's having a bad day, isn't he?" She asked and John nodded.

"How do you know?"

"Before you came this morning, he's been shouting, even if no one was there." She shrugged. "I think he's been yelling at the wall."

"That happens, sometimes." John agreed. "At least he's not shooting at it."

"Thank god!" She agreed and smiled. "Say hello to Mycroft. And I'll bring a cake to the party."

"That's great, Mrs. Hudson." John hugged her tightly.

Outside, Mycroft was already leaning on the car. He smiled when he saw John. "I see that my brother is not in a good mood today." He said when he kissed John on the cheek.

John chuckled. "And how do you know that?"

"Call it intuition." Mycroft said simply and opened the door of the car for John.

"Did you hear him shout upstairs?" John asked, not quite believing him.

"Indeed." Mycroft grinned. "What was it this time?"

"He told Greg that they didn't do their research properly."

"And did they?"

Before John could answer, Sherlock and Greg left the house. "Oh no, why are you still here?" Sherlock asked and raised his eyebrows. "I told you to leave, John!"

"It's good to see you too, Sherlock." Mycroft smiled at his brother, but Sherlock ignored him. He stopped the next cab and gestured for Greg to follow him. Greg smiled at Mycroft but didn't stop to talk to them. Apparently, he didn't want to upset Sherlock even more.

When they got in the car, Mycroft chuckled. "Today, he is really bad-tempered."

* * *

"Can you believe that we'll be married for one year soon?" John shook his head in disbelief. "Time's running so fast."

"Good times have a habit of passing too fast." Mycroft agreed and wrapped his arms around John's waist. The day has been calm and now they were sitting on the couch in their living room, enjoying the evening alone. Sherlock didn't contact them all day.

"In two days, Sherlock will be back for a year as well." John muttered, remembering the evening Sherlock had shown up in that bar.

"You look thoughtful." Mycroft noticed.

"I've been wondering how different that year would have been without him." He admitted. "He's still driving me crazy at times."

"All of us, I think." Mycroft corrected him with a smile. "But it affects you more than others because you see him nearly every day."

And honestly, John wouldn't want it any other way. "I've missed him, in those two years when he's been gone."

"I know." Mycroft kissed him. "Sometimes, I close my eyes and see you again on that first day I've visited you after his 'death'." The smile on his lips faded when the old memories came back. "You've been so sad, I couldn't stand that."

"You made everything better." John whispered. "Without you, I don't think that I would have survived that time."

He shook his head. "You're so strong John, of course you would have been alright."

"I just don't know how long that would have taken." John muttered thoughtfully. "Maybe he would have been back before I fully accepted his death." He tried to let the last sentence sound playful, but it didn't work.

"Don't think about that anymore, John." Mycroft interrupted him. "I am glad that everything worked out in the end."

He raised his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

Mycroft chuckled. "We are together and married for nearly a year, my brother is back and solving cases, you help him with that and next to that, we're all fine."

John knew that he meant the two days in which Mycroft had thought that John and Sherlock were dead. Months have passed since that case and sometimes, Mycroft still woke up from nightmares. Just like John still saw Sherlock jump in his dreams three years later.

"I'll never leave you again." He pulled Mycroft closer to kiss him deeply. "I love you."

"I love you too, John." Mycroft whispered and ran a hand down John's back. "And you can be sure that I'll never let you out of sight again."

"We talked about that." John argued softly.

"It is highly distracting not to have you around. Let me at least know where you are."

"I do." John promised. "You don't have to observe me for that."

"Old habits…" Mycroft shrugged. Ever since the 'War of the Roses' case, as John had called it on his blog, Mycroft has been overprotective.

"You're impossible." John whispered before he kissed Mycroft again.

John couldn't tell how long they've been kissing when a noise distracted them.

"What was that? Sounded like the front door. But it's locked." John asked and raised his eyebrows. He stood up slowly and began to button up his shirt again.

"That is a good question." Mycroft reached for the umbrella that leaned against the table. Right now, John was glad that he had it close by. Normally, he didn't like Mycroft taking it everywhere in the house.

They listened silently for a few moments and heard the front door close. As quiet as possible, John and Mycroft positioned themselves on both sides of the door that led to the hallway.

The footsteps came closer slowly and then, the light in the hallway was switched on. "John, Mycroft!" A familiar voice shouted and they both relaxed.

"Sherlock Holmes, did you just break in?" John said loudly and crossed his arms when Sherlock entered the living room. He was paler than usual, his eyes were wide and his coat was open, like he didn't take the time to close it.

"Yes, I did, but it is urgent." Sherlock ignored the reproachful looks on their faces and went to the tv. "There's something you have to see."

"Can't that wait until tomorrow?" Mycroft asked and wrapped his arm around John's waist.

"I said you should call when something happens, Sherlock. Not break into our house." John added.

"Just look at it!" Sherlock said and switched on the device.

What they saw there nearly made John's heart stop. He heard Mycroft inhale sharply next to him. When he turned to Sherlock, he saw that there was a dark look on his face.

On the screen, John saw Jim Moriarty's face. He was smiling and four words always repeated themselves.

_Did you miss me?_


End file.
